Diplomatic Gestures
by Aicosu
Summary: She didn't have need for an assassin, but she couldn't very well reject the gift without angering the Serkonos regency. They were a traditional people with a traditional mind. She'd have to work around it. (A take on how Corvo Attano came to be the Royal Protector and the object of Jessamine's heart.) CorvoXJessamine mute!Corvo
1. Chapter One

_Note: I've interpreted the Serkonos language as Italian._

___"The Royal Protector, Corvo Attano, is originally from the Isle of Serkonos, making him an outsider in Dunwall. Assigned to serve the Empress as a **diplomatic gesture**, Corvo loyally serves as a bodyguard and agent."  
-Dishonored Official Manual_

* * *

**Chapter One**

**The Details**

_Corvo Attano.  
_  
Her eyes flickered across the name in slight curiosity. Jessamine leaned back to glance upward at the Ambassador with trepidation. "Forgive me Lord Vicci, but this clause here…"

"Your Majesty?" The Ambassador responded, jolting from his reclined position in the large leather chair before her immense desk. He was a small man for a from Serkonan, but Jessamine suspected he was only a half breed from the renowned island. She had also noticed he was a fidgety man. Since he had first bowed to her he had been nothing but nerves and spasms throughout their meeting. Not so reassuring given the situation, but she trusted his Lordship, Rossini, the current reign of Serkonos. It was disappointing Rossini himself could not come to negotiate their treaty, but duties were duties and she acknowledged his need to be with his people. She would see him later during her trip, to be sure.

It was not an unexpected treaty. The main things were there; the important ones. Between the legal garb of the document there was, in fact, the statement that the pirating of her trade ships would stop given a levy of taxes. The banning of certain exports was also being lifted to the ships along the isles that were in current low economic standing; a move that the upper court nobles and businessmen may tilt their noses at, but would benefit Serkonos and Gristol in the long run.

Then there were the small terms of endearment. Gristol was gifting Serkonos a barrage of new ships for their new trading routes. Donations of food rations and wine for the lower towns suffering in the drought were being offered. And of course, Serkonos could now trade whale oil they harvested themselves.

But Serkonos, as Jessamine began to find out more each day, was a traditional land. Traditional was perhaps not the best word. Superstitious was one. Ritualistic was another.

They were offering her Serkonos steel for her armory. Metal with engravings, and beautiful craftsmanship… steel here was an art form and the gift was appreciated if only a novelty. Dogs were another offering, along with leathers, foods, and spices to accompany the promise of ending the pirating. It's not as if Jessamine expected anything more, or substantial. The promise was all she wanted or cared about. Serkonos was small and many things it offered were things she could have anyway, simply because Gristol and Serkonos had already been joined under one rule; hers.c

Still.

"This clause here Ambassador," She spoke, leaning back to point a long finger down at the printing. Vicci jumped upward, his hands scrambling to fix his lenses down to his eyes and peer at the treaty upside down as she read aloud. "…to be appointed the hand of Corvo Attano…"

"A gift your Majesty, of course." Vicci attested and when he noticed Jessamine's still confused expression, babbled to explain. "A Hand. Or more known in Gristol as an assassin. The finest in all of Serkonos I assure you. Straight from the Gallows."

Jessamine frowned. The Gallows. Serkonos was traditional in many senses. And ritualistic in ways other high class nobles of Gristol would describe as barbaric. Crime being what it was in Gristol, one could only imagine the crime between pirates and shipped-out fugitives stuck on the ripping heat of a cluster of islands. It was rumored that every man had a personal assassin to off his neighbor and take his land. It was further rumored that this was the only way to move up in society. And from what Jessamine had seen herself, this was not far off the mark. Sleight of hand with blades seemed to be the normal handshake. It only seemed a shame that almost every assassin could be bought out from its target.

The Empress sighed aloud. The courtesy of giving her an assassin was not lost on her. But the idea of taking a man from Serkonos would upset her court. Not to mention if the assassins were like anything she knew, he could only be so reliable. Her trust for him was already about as much as she could throw him, and even less since she had never met the man nor heard of him. "I have no need for an assassin Ambassador." She waved, her hands literally gesturing at the treaty dismissively.

Lord Vicci seemed to think differently if his change in expression and huff of dismay was any indication. "Your Majesty, surely there are those you need disposed of with utmost discretion. There is no shame in such services in my land. We extend the same to you."

"I must insist that I cannot accept an assassin whose loyalties I do not know of-

"Your Majesty isn't insisting that she does not trust his Lordship?"

Damn. So that is what this was about. Not a gift, but entrapment. She could not refuse the gift without showing her distrust to the ruler of Serkonos, and yet she would be accepting a possible spy (or backstabber). Jessamine tried not to glare at the stout man and his thick rolling accent.

Perhaps there was another way around this.

"Not at all Ambassador. But I still have no need for an assassin. Perhaps as another personal guard." She smiled regally, being sure to let her eyes gleam in challenge. "Send this assassin to my guard Captain. Surely there is more work to be found in patrolling my Tower."

Vicci didn't seem pleased, but he didn't protest. It was the perfect solution anyhow. She accepted; and there was no chance of the assassin fulfilling spy duties with her Captain keeping a good eye on him. He merely nodded in acquiesce and Jessamine gladly reached for her quill, signing the clean parchment with flourish.

There. No more stray trade ships, more imports and exports coming into Gristol with potential market, and she avoided having a man from Serkonos stab her in the back without appearing ungrateful.

* * *

The cries from the dusty courtyard echoed through the narrow alleyways like wind and the rabble only rose with each passing second.

The skins of bare children blurred in the dust as they screamed and shouted. A barrel of sand kicked up in the air as a child fell to his side, his frail malnourished body struggling to lift up from the ground, leaving spots of muddy red blood in his wake. The boy pushed up to stand shakily on his feet from the fall. Other young boys around him began to form a circle, pointing and screaming and yelling in excitement. The blood dripped from his nose like a faucet, dribbling down his chin.

There was an older boy in front of him, his fist caked with the markings of blood. Proof of his debauchery. He prowled around the young boy, raising his fists quickly and pausing to make him flinch. His child's laughter was filled with malice.

The younger boy raised his weak arms before his head, protecting his face in fear of another blow. Tears streaked down his dirty face and he peeked out at the older boy in helplessness. The crowd of ruffians urged the bully on as he beat on the young boy, blood spattering the dirt and the sound of pounded flesh echoing off the small courtyard.

A clod of dirt smashed into the tormentor's head and he shook his scraggy hair and roared out, looking around the crowd for the source of the interruption. There was a yell and another small boy, with long dirty hair and darker skin leaped out, his arm curling around the bully's neck and tumbling them both to the ground.

The boys clashed wildly, shouts being thrown as much as punches. The newest boy with his long hair used the bully's weight to pin him to the ground. His small fists rose to punch him in the eyes, blood pouring from the orifice after a few strikes. He grabbed tight onto the thicker boys arms and rendered them backward. The crowd roared at the snapping sound of bone and the former bully yelled like a pained lamb as his elbow popped backward unnaturally.

A thunderous shout ceased the crowd's cheering. There were sounds of heavy boots approaching and the children scattered like wildfire. The long haired boy rushed off the broken and beaten bully, quickly helping the smaller bruised victim. Whispers of comfort are barely heard from the shouts of a man approaching the courtyard.

"STOP! You bastard boy!" The shouts call. The smallest victim nods with frightful eyes at his savior before running away. The man approaching is dark with a face full of hair and dirt. He spits as he yells, stepping right over the broken bully to snatch the long haired child. "CORVO! You stupid child of a whore!" He accuses. His great large hands yank Corvo's hair, facing him toward the broken bully. "That's the fourth fuckin' time I caught you! Pezzo di merda!"

The gruff man tosses the boy called Corvo to the dirt. He scrambles, his small hands moving to get away and on his feet but it's too late. A boot smashes into his head and drives him back into the ground. "You think it's fuckin funny to break bones!?"

Corvo spits blood onto the dirt and screams back. "He was hurt! He was too small!"

This only angered the man more. "You shit! Proca troia! You don't respect the pecking order! That boy was getting his lesson!"

"It's not fair!"

The boot pulled back from Corvo's tiny head before kicking into his stomach and turning him over. "Nothing's fair in the Gallows boy! You learn and kill, or you die." He leaned down, pulling the boy up by his neck. "There ain't no protecting in this business nor is there disrespect!"

He held Corvo still as he screamed, yanking him about and glaring at him. The bully on the ground some feet away began whining loudly, the pain of his broken arm and beaten face permeating the courtyard. They ignored him. A glint of light flickered from the man's hands and Corvo's small body stilled as a rusted knife peeked out in the sun.

"Now you little shit, you will learn your placen! No need for words in our business and I won't have you squawking with the others in MY Gallows." He hushed, the blade coming to rest on Corvo's cheeks, pressing into skin with a warning. "So you won't be needin' that tongue anymore."

The screaming in the courtyard didn't last long. Not with the amount of blood seeping from Corvo's small mouth.

* * *

Captain Morris tossed the papers down on the mahogany surface and wiped his brow on the fine wool of his regiment coat. "Blast this heat." He cursed. He walked around the tiny desk, cluttered as it was already. The small office was nothing like his own back in Gristol, but it made do for temporary services until the Empress herself decided to return. "I'll be glad to get off this island." He sighed, grabbing a perspiring bottle of whiskey and pouring some in a tumbler before turning to glance at the other men in the room. "Does it get hotter than this?"

Small black eyes looked back at him but did not answer.

The Serkonos man was tall. Perhaps not as tall as others he knew, but tall enough in stature and presence. He would probably seem even taller if he didn't hunch his shoulders so. The clothes he wore were naught but black leathers. Layers of clothing that made Morris sweat just looking at them. His skin was dark and tan and he was dirty. Not too surprising or uncommon for Serkonos people… nor was the long greasy hair. "Would you take a drink-uh…?" Morris leaned over to glance at the papers he had just deposited on the desk, "Corvo?"

The man did not reply.

Morris sighed. Assassins. He knew the Empress trusted him with this new assignment, and he had a duty to keep an eye on this man for her safety and the safety of the Realms. She couldn't very well accept him as her own working directly beneath her. He was Serkonan for God's sake, they were barbaric. Still, now it was his problem and he didn't like one bit of it. "We can't very well work without proper introductions, Corvo. You may not be pleased with your regency giving you over to the Empress but that doesn't mean we are to act like upset children."

"H-He's a mute, sir."

Morris paused, looking over the Serkonos man's shoulder to his guard at the door. He frowned, glancing at the assassin. "What was that?"

"A mute, sir. No tongue." The guard explained, shifting on his feet awkwardly. "The Ambassador said so in his letter. He signs plenty though."

Morris glanced back at the dark man's face that seemed undisturbed by the obvious conversation about him. Mute, unfortunately, did not mean deaf. No wonder they gave him away. However, a mute spy was still a spy. And tongue cutting was not uncommon in the Realm. Especially after the wars with Morley. Mutes were common folk even in Gristol. City Watch had made it a point to give lessons during training to better understand the sick and the old wandering the city. Not that Morris remembered a lot of it. "Alright Corvo…" He began warily. "Let's just get down to it then shall we? You've been assigned to me. Normally I'd put you straight into the barracks to begin the process of being in city watch… but seeing as we are traveling as security for her Majesty, I'll have to bump you to patrolling. I'll have you double up with some other officers so they can teach you the ropes. Patrols along the outside streets of Her Majesty's compound will be the easiest place to lea-"

Morris paused as Corvo suddenly raised his hands, his fingers sweeping the air before him if winding a clock or tracing a painting. They were deliberate movements that Morris followed closely, even as Corvo kept his own eyes on the Captain.

There was no sound from him, but his 'words' made Morris uneasy. "What about Her Majesty?"

His fingers moved again, a bit slower, but equally as deliberate.

_'I am her Majesty's hand. Not an officer.'_

Morris frowned. "So the treaty said. But the Empress has no need for an assassin. She wished you to be a guard instead, under my command."

_'Then I will be a guard under her command.'_

"To be frank with you Corvo, I'm not happy about this either. But orders are orders. The Empress has no need for you, so you fall under my authority."

Corvo didn't have to speak for Morris to see how frustrated he was.

"You have a new position now. You will do your duty for the regency under my command. You are no longer part of Serkonos, or their authority. You are under mine and Gristol's control and you will heed the command of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin. Those are where your loyalties now lie." Morris reiterated, hoping to set the assassin straight and break any ties here or thoughts to betray Gristol secrets to Serkonos. "Is that clear?"

Corvo's hard face tightened, his right hand coming out to sign alone in sharp gestures.

_'I was to be assigned to Jessamine's side.'_

Captain Morris straightened at the informality, his hand coming behind his back as he looked down on Corvo. "I don't think I should repeat myself again. Her majesty assigned you here and you will respect her by her right title and by doing your job."

Corvo Attano signed again, but this time, the Captain didn't quite catch the very quickness of his hands. No matter what he said, he had a feeling it wasn't very nice or happy. The assassin turned on his heel, storming out of the tiny office with a swift movement passed the nervous guard.

Morris sighed, taking a drink from his whiskey. This was bad news all the way around. A Serkonos assassin would not do well in the company of Gristol officers, let alone a man more than half his men would not be able to understand. He had hoped he would be reliable, cordial even, to grant knowledge of the area around them. But… perhaps not.

They had a month or more on this blasted sweltering island. Perhaps by then Corvo would either fall in place, or the Ambassador would take him back.

Or he would betray them and prove Serkonos a false ally.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

**Contempt**

"It gets hotter everyday Your Majesty."

Jessamine turned on her horse to smile at the two other stallions striding up to her. Her hand tipped up her riding hat, shifting the reigns to stall her mare as her Lord Protector and his lieutenant trotted up to her side. "Lord Essen, it's strange to see you out and about Serkonos, let alone on a horse."

"Even in my age Empress, I still have a job to do, no matter how much I trust my soldiers." He smiled. Nicolai Essen was a hardy man. A renowned General and Commander, he had fought in the war and built up his reputation enough for a place in the courts. He had been her Father's favorite soldier and friend, so when the time came to choose a Royal Protector, there hadn't really been a choice. He had always kept an eye on her when she was younger and his organization with her guards had proven time and again very efficient. Especially now that he was at an age where he couldn't always keep up with her appearances.

Jessamine turned her mare about to trot slightly ahead with Nicolai at her right. She lifted her chin, relishing in the slight heat through her tight riding jacket and pants. Although her legs still burned beneath her leather boots and her hair was insulating heat. "It is miserable, but I find the view along the sands beautiful." She commented. Serkonos was unrelenting, but still the Realm's southern desert gem. It was strange how its humble beauty, untouched by iron and industry, sparkled and yet on a second look the cities leaked with scandal, underhanded piracy, and shady dealings.

Nicolai followed her gaze to the ocean, his own strappings and badges of war weighing down his clothing in the heat. "The men here are born for this weather. We all redden and melt like wax, while they darken and harden like steel."

Jessamine chuckled delicately. "Tell me Essen, what news brings you to my side in such weather?"

She heard him sigh behind her before broaching the subject. "I know your Majesty wishes to make appearances to reassure the new treaty with the Serkonos regency… but while the regency wants us here and proves a great ally, they cannot always control their people." He paused and Jessamine turned her eyes on him curiously. "There have been some… reports of unrests near the compound with some citizens. Ruffians, mostly. Ones who obviously don't like Lord Rossini either."

Jessamine frowned. "Gallows men?" She asked.

"We thank the Abbey not!" Essen scoffed. "The Gallows of Serkonos train their assassins from birth. Those men know no love or sympathy. Many of them turn to piracy and many more simply kill so much they kill themselves with naught left to do." He frowned. "I've seen them train those boys like dogs. No… this is mere drunkards and thugs. But we don't want it to be any more than that."

Jessamine's expression pursed and her mare shook its head in the heated wind. "I see."

"You are best protected at home in Gristol your Majesty." Essen reiterated. He pulled out a handkerchief and patted his wrinkled brow and dampened beard. "Especially when you insist on running your Lord Protector rampant around this city." He chuckled.

Jessamine smiled back at him and nodded in understanding. "Soon then. Next week, prepare my ships. But I have to meet with Lord Rossini himself to talk trade one last time. Then I will be fit to depart."

"Very good, Your Majesty."

* * *

"He killed three of them, Captain. Faster than I could see-I couldn't have stopped him! I swear it or I would have!"

Morris ground his teeth together. Damn it all to the void. The 3rd time in three weeks, and now he'd killed three at once.

Corvo Attano had proved more than worthy of being a patrol officer. Though he had also proved the biggest problem Captain Morris had ever faced in all his years of being a watchmen. Corvo was stubborn and disrespectful of their organization and his orders. They were constantly reminding him of propriety and conduct. Not to mention the man made gaps in his security every five minutes. Or rather… he pointed out gaps in his security, which surely, were not there before.

Last week they had been able to reduce the number guards on the eastern side of the fence protecting Her Majesty's villa by installing a new tripwire mine system that was foolproof. Or it had been foolproof. Corvo has stormed in with angry hands, gesturing wildly that the minefield was a farce and Morris had shouted at him to leave. Three hours later Corvo returned to dump a handful of mines on his desk, nearly scaring him to death before he learned they were all disarmed. Simply to prove a point. It was a good point, but a ridiculous one. What man would spend that long disarming mines simply to get into one area full of guards and still have to face hours of patrols to get to the Royal Empress?

_A man determined to kill her._ Corvo had signed.

There was also an officer currently infirm with a broken arm from a brawl that happened in the barracks. But when he had heard the shouting and rushed to break up the fight, there wasn't anything to break up. The officer couldn't testify if Corvo had actually moved and neither could the other dozen witnesses in the room. Apparently the officer had been harassing and demeaning Corvo as Serkonan. He had grabbed Corvo's shoulder to provoke him and was suddenly on the ground. Just like that. No one had seen Corvo move to break his arm. "Maybe he just fell on it when Corvo shrugged him off?" They wagered.

Either way, he couldn't discharge him for lack of evidence. But at least his men would know not to antagonize the Serkonan.

All of that was enough for three weeks of service. If it wasn't for the killings.

The first time it had happened, the patrol officers acting as his guides lost him doing their rounds. They had reported to Morris, who was displeased to say the least. They looked around the compound for a good hour when Corvo suddenly appeared himself, dumping a dead body onto the courtyard.

_An assassin_. His hands spoke.

Morris could accept that. After all, who better to know and eliminate an assassin but an assassin himself? He had nodded, trustfully if a bit warily, and gave him a "Job well done."

The second time, Corvo had killed a boy.

He had to be no older than 12. This time, a sweeping hand to indicate the word 'assassin' didn't cut it with Morris. They had shouted. Well, Morris had. "You can't just make that call! He's a child! And you have no orders to kill civilians even if they are antagonizing! You will ruin everything between Her Majesty and the Lord Rossini's treaty! Are you mad!?"

Corvo had glared in a reserved fury before ripping out a metallic object from his coat. The guards at the time had all pointed their guns and Morris had nearly thought Corvo meant to attack when instead he threw the object before them. It clattered to the ground noisly, but laid still.

A spring razor.

Corvo had signed slowly, with fingers that held a controlled violence_. Strapped to the boy. A Serkonan trick. _

Morris had let that one go too. But not without suspending him from patrols for the rest of the week and berating him for an hour about the difference between being a Serkonos assassin and being a Gristol watchmen. He had wanted to detain him, or send him packing to his Ambassador. But that would be an open insult straight to Lord Rossini. Captain Morris was already making plans to talk to the higher ups or send a letter to he Empress herself if he had too. But until they actually left the island for home, Corvo was his responsibility. And they only had a week left, which seemed alright. But Corvo had gone back on patrol today after his suspension.

And now...

He ran along the fence of the compound with his lieutenant leading the way, fearing a slaughter of civilians. The streets were dark and sickly humid and hot. There was yowling of strays beyond the fence. Even close to the coast as Her Majesty's villa was, the stench of the impoverished villages just beyond reeked down the land.

Their steps echoed loudly and shadows began to emerge in the darkness ahead. A fluorescent watch light flickered on at the sense of their movement. The light striking the image of a lean man in patrol clothing standing over dark misshapen shadows. Three of them.

"Fuck it all!" Morris swore, slowing. He half expected Corvo to have run off, but there he was, standing there waiting for them. His lieutenant paused behind him as he stormed up the worn cobblestones to the Serkonan. He allowed himself to look down at dead bodies and nearly sighed out loud in his relief that they were all adult men and not children. His anger still did not subside. "What in the name of hell happened!?"

Corvo's long hair framed his face in darkness. The shadows of the fluorescent watch light hitting the back of his head made his eyes and pupils nearly unreadable in the night. He said nothing.

"We were just making the rounds Sir! Nothing out of the ordinary at all and the shift was nearly through! He was right by my side I swear it!" The lieutenant called again, stepping forward and looking down at the men and shaking his head. "I-I saw them a bit far off near the gates. I figured them for workers, what with their uniforms. I'd seen the servers before last week comin' in and out."

Damn it all. Corvo had slaughtered the Villa's servers. This was a mess.

"Then the mute he- he just took off! I chased him, tried to catch up but they all went down. He barely touched them and they just died, just like that!" As the lieutenant continued, Corvo moved, stepping over the first body and coming to crouch near the second.

"Get away from the bodies Corvo! Not another move!" Morris warned, grabbing the hilt of his blade. The lieutenant stepped backward in shock. "Do you realize what you've done?"

Corvo stopped when he was told and glanced over his shoulder. There was no anger this time. Just a straight seriousness in his dark eyes that made Morris bulk on his threat. Corvo's hand moved, grasping one of the dead man's arms and pushing his sleeve higher. A tattoo emerged into view, ragged and wicked black ink swirling in an intricate design. It looked infected... new. Corvo dropped the arm after Morris got a good look and stood, lifting his own sleeve to show him an identical marking. His was old and faded into his skin, interrupted by scars.

"Gallows men!" His lieutenant shouted. Morris let his hand drop from his hilt, staring at Corvo in slight wonder.

"This... isn't good. That mean's someone has the Empress targeted for a bounty." The Captain sighed, putting a hand to the back of his neck. "Not good at all. She meets with the Ambassador and Lord Rossini himself tomorrow." He cringed. "In town, at his palace."

Corvo stepped forward, his hand moving quickly.

Captain Morris made a face at him. "Blast it all I can't- I can't go that fast man!" He barked, feeling incompetent and irritated with the situation altogether. It was as if his problems were growing bigger in scale every day. Bigger than any he had ever faced. And it was this mute man's fault.

"He says that she mustn't go. Says that she should return to Gristol… tomorrow." The lieutenant supplied. "And he says... ah... says he must be assigned to her side."

Morris glared, stepping forward to point a finger at Corvo. "We had this discussion!" He bit out. Corvo's expression remained steady in his dark eyes and the control of his expression made Morris step back. He lowered his hand but not his scowl or his authority. "Look- I appreciate your skills and your insight. To catch all those men trying to get in here... " He paused, a weary but plaintive look on his face. "I apologize for my assumptions, but you still don't respect command. And while it's good that you caught them, you can't make the call to kill them! They have to be detained for information. You don't respect orders and you don't respect conduct."

Morris didn't even try to read the new words in Corvo's hands, he couldn't argue with him, not now. He ignored them instead, continuing, "The last thing that the Empress will want right now when she finds out that Gallow's men are after her is a Gallow's assassin near her!"

If he made assumptions before that Corvo would attack him during an argument... it was his instincts and the look in Corvo's eyes that made him surer now than ever.

"I'm sorry Corvo. But you were assigned here and Lord Rossini's commands for your position don't hold up under Gristol authority."

It was quiet under the buzzing of the watch light, it's bright shining whiteness the only thing carving them out of the darkness. "Perhaps it's not such a bad idea Captain... "The lieutenant trailed. Morris turned his irritated eyes on the soldier who paused at the look before continuing with genuine concern. "I would have let these men right in. It was enough for me they were wearing uniform and... I would not have known they were Gallows men at all but Corvo... Corvo just knew."

The fact that it was true didn't make his job any easier. It was hard gaining trust in Corvo Attano, with his particular behavior and presence, not to mention his background. But it was even harder coming to terms with trusting him and not supporting him because he knew others wouldn't. Not to mention if he was wrong, it would cost lives. Still, Morris knew a dire situation when he saw one. And the benefits of knowing one's enemy were enough to outweigh a little protocol.

"I'm assigned with a small regiment to her Lord Protector tomorrow during her venture into Karnaca to meet with the Lordship." He looked up, meeting the small black eyes of the assassin. "Come with tomorrow and stay close to my side. We can... keep a better eye on things with you there." He compromised.

Corvo didn't look happy, but he didn't look angry anymore either. The quiet tension of the night was filled with a soft tentative understanding between them as they nodded.

Morris only hoped that he was right to bring him along.

He hoped more that it wouldn't be needed.

* * *

_Note: Shorter Chapter than usual for me. But only because it made more sense to cut it off here. Next chapter is very, very long. _


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

**Gallows Men**

"Why, our dear Empress! You look radiant in the desert sun!"

Jessamine squinted up at the grand stairs, the sunlight slicing her vision in nothing but gold. Her hand rose to shade them and reveal the image of Ambassador Vicci coming down towards her and her entourage. She forced a smile, her gloved hands boiling as much as her body was, garbed in black as it was. Her high collar didn't help either, but such was regal fashion. "Radiant, Ambassador, is not the exact word I would use."

The Ambassador gave his nervous little smile and she distracted him by turning to motion toward Lord Essen. He was still climbing the stairs and sweating as much visibly as she was internally. "You've met my Royal Protector, Lord Nicolai Essen." She introduced again.

The men shook hands and the Ambassador commented on the ridiculous insistence of leather clothing between Dunwall citizens.

Jessamine turned back toward the large palace, baking under midday sun. It was beautiful, if a bit strange. It was fashioned with crème marble, gold filigree along the doors and windows, and statuettes of angels and idols on the very top of its roofing. It was opulent, which is why it was strange to her. Serkonos was humble and traditional. But this seemed modern and new. She wondered if the rumors about the locals hating the new reign and his rulings were true. And not for the first time, she wondered if the natives were unhappy with their alignment to the Realm.

"Your Majesty, his Lordship awaits to greet you in his court." The Ambassador called, beginning to lead her up the stairs. "You'll be announced of course, and I guarantee it is much cooler inside."

"Announced? I was not aware that there was to be an event in my honor." Jessamine commented, pursing her lips. She could feel Essen's unease behind her already.

"Well of course! It was an invitation after all. Did you not see many of our people coming out to catch glimpse of you on your way here, Empress?" Vicci asked. And that was true enough. Essen had mentioned to her that the soldiers were having trouble setting up any sort of moving perimeter. No doubt he was about to have his work cut out for him trying to protect her in a foreign court while she mingled with foreign nobles.

No matter. She would only make her appearance and judge for the last time if his Lordship Rossini was her ally. Then she would sail home to her own palace, Dunwall Tower.

* * *

Captain Morris frowned. "A court? They're throwing a party for her and Essen didn't object?" Morris crunched up the note in his hands, shaking his head as he pushed aside the soldier who had delivered it. "Did he not read my report?" He asked no one in particular. The day had already gone hectically. Their entourage of soldiers had to ride ahead to create an efficient pathway for her carriage, which would have been simple if not for the immense traffic of people trying to come and see her procession. Her presence in town was not even supposed to be announced, due to her own protection. But it seemed the regency of Serkonos was insistent upon celebrating their Empress.

Or it was a trap.

Morris sent out some of his men to begin patrols about the new palace. He would need to try and cover all the entrances he could with his own men. At this point he couldn't afford to trust the guards already posted here. They all belonged to Rossini. He would also need men stationed inside. Essen was with the Empress of course, but they needed eyes everywhere in a room full of people all trying to get close to her.

He headed down the hall towards the post where his lieutenants were waiting. Turning the corner he nearly smashed right into someone and he swore, stepping backward and grabbing at his sword. When he recognized who it was, he relaxed only a little. "Dammit Corvo! Now is not the fucking time!"

Corvo's hands rose and began to move, but Morris grit his teeth and pushed passed him. "I frankly don't want to hear it-or see it right now!" He exclaimed, his angry and urgent footsteps echoing on the marble. Corvo's were silent. "I know it's all gone to shit, alright? No one seems to have read my report about the Gallow's men. Or if Essen did, he isn't doing anything about it so we'll have to just make do." He sighed, pausing on his march. "She'll be fine with Essen. I'm more worried about casualties should they sweep in on this blasted party and-" Morris turned to reassure the man, when his eyes widened. "Corvo?"

The lavish gold hall was empty, the marble floors reflecting his image and no one else's.

Shit.

* * *

"You adapt well to my weather Majesty."

"Only because your lands are so beautiful, Lordship."

Lord Rossini was an absolute pleasure. The day party itself had been overwhelming. Strange how different Serkonos was, and yet nobles everywhere seemed to be the same. They all laughed and joked, bringing her into their chatting circles to shake her hand and comment to her about their scandals and politics. They spoke of Morley and Tyvia like the friends no one truly liked. The women begged to hear about Gristol fashion and the men wished to boast of Serkonan trade and their unyielding native pride. There were polite nobles who wished her well and others who asked crudely about her plans for the future of her line. Marriage seemed to always be the topic in high society no matter where you went.

Essen was living a nightmare, she could tell. He was at her side like he never had been before. Warning of her not to drink anything he didn't get himself. But after the first hour, she could tell he was beginning to calm. She had seen the soldiers everywhere in their Gristol red and blue coats, watching her every movement. This paranoid her more than it eased her.

But when she finally met Rossini, she felt her anxieties melt away. He was young. Younger than she had expected; perhaps even a few years younger than herself. But he spoke to her in earnest about reforming Serkonos with their treaty. The trading of whale oil would do much to their economy as she knew it would. He wanted to join court at Gristol. He wanted to bring the Serkonos reputation out from the pirates and into the high society so they could flourish financially. She could draw everything together when he spoke of it. His clauses in the treaty and the modern and proud building they stood in. No wonder some of his people were in a state of unrest. He planned to do out with all the illegal doings of the city.

Rossini led her into a parlor, Essen following close behind as he had the entire she had been talking with the Lord. "I had feared you had not enjoyed your stay in Serkonos since I heard you did not leave your Villa often."

Jessamine smiled. "I prefer your coasts to your cities. I rode often along the beach."

"A beautiful sight, no?" He smiled. His tan skin and dark hair looked even more youthful with the expression. "I hope vacations occur more often once things begin to change."

They paused their slow walk and she stood in front of him. He was genuine, she could tell. He shared a look in his eye that she recognized in the mirror when she thought protectively over Gristol. "And I hope to see you more in my own court, Lordship. You are more than welcome and safe there."

The Lord raised his brows at the words that triggered his next sentence. "I had hoped to encourage your safety also! Does my Hand serve you well, Majesty?"

Jessamine looked at him in confusion for a second before the sentence clicked. He meant the assassin of the treaty. She tried to keep her smile, but could not take the apology out of her voice. "It... is reported so. He works for my protection with my Captains."

Rossini frowned thoughtfully, but nodded with an understanding smile. "Don't worry; I realize your apprehension over such an idea as assassination..." He looked her over, this time with concern. "But I assure you. Corvo is a good friend to me and worked for many years with my family before I became Lord. I gift him to you with the assurance that he will do your bidding." He smiled a bit sadly. Had they been closer she imagined he would have patted her hand. "I'm afraid as ruler; I have learned not to shy away from alternative means to war… or doing what is right for my people."

Jessamine nodded her thanks. She didn't have much to say in front of his generosity. But at least he understood their fragile trust so far. Her trip to her Serkonos had proved successful in the face of his true intentions and demeanor. But she could not say the same for the darker shadows that ran through the streets. She did not envy the Lord's rule. Not when she got the feeling that the citizens ran more of the city than he could ever.

Still, she would support him and his want for Gristol influence. Perhaps she would order the Guard Captain to promote the man Rossini had given her... but she could not come to terms with the idea of a personal cutthroat at her beck and call.

"Come now, enough talk of such things. You must tell me how I should fashion myself for my debut in Dunwall high society." He chuckled, his hands reaching to adjust his cravat, printed in exotic Serkonan markings.

Jessamine's expression lightened and she shook her head. "I'm afraid my Lordship, that you will have to acquire more black for your wardrobe."

* * *

Morris wished he was back in Gristol. He wished that more than anything.

Well perhaps not as much as he wished he never came to this blasted island in the first place.

Morris rushed down the line of his second squad, searching the faces for the tanned skinned Corvo. He needed to find the man and fast, or else it was his hide. He cursed, glancing down the entrance to his guards posted there before barreling inside the main. He took them two at a time toward the main foyer. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the entire plan. For the damned mute to get close enough to the Empress to kill her. It would make sense. Why the Lord had chosen a surprise party. Why he had drawn then out to a new place her guards weren't familiar with. It was all coming together. He probably wasn't even fucking mute.

The white marble of the room was covered with all the gowns and expensive silks of its guests. Hats and flowers and free flowing gauze trailed over the stone. The sound of clattering dishes and chatter of the people only made the Captain panic harshly. He leaned over the railing of the stairs leading down to the center of the foyer and scanned for any sign of the Royal Protector and the Empress. Or of Corvo.

With another curse, he pushed away, turning to spot more of his men posted and trying to make out their faces. First things first - he had to report to Nicolai Essen to warn him of the danger and of his own mistakes.

His hand came up to touch his temple, his mind throbbing with the stress that urged him. And with the narrowing of his vision, he suddenly spotted the movement of a shadow in the corner of his eye. Morris slowly grabbed the hilt of his blade.

He turned to slow.

The shadow dropped down from the ceiling, an arm grabbing at his shoulder and yanking him downward before he could draw his weapon. He fell forward onto a blade.

He saw the silver of the dagger more than he felt it. The pain didn't come as quickly as he imagined it would. The surprise deluded him and he tried to piece it together like a sudden dream. His hand lifted to grasp at the metal, feeling where it met the wool of his coat and then the skin of his flesh. His eyes started to blur, and his legs gave way at his knees. But he struggled, blinking up to see the black shadow of the man who stabbed him even as screams began to erupt wildly below.

Gallows men

Corvo had been right.

* * *

"No, the rain months in the city don't nearly last as long as one would think. And the spring brings by beautiful sights in the northern-"

The far door of the parlor leading to the foyer slammed open and Jessamine jumped. He mouth snapped shut and Lord Rossini jumped to his feet across from her. She heard Essen curse and knew his hand was upon his sword. Their eyes targeted in on the intruder - a guard. One of Rossini's own.

"My Lord!" He called before his words failed him. He was shaking heavily with sweat and his eyes were wide with fear. "Gallows assassins-"

Essen drew his sword fuller and Rossini shouted for the guard to close and lock the door. The Lord turned to Jessamine with a serious expression. "Your Majesty, I'm afraid our time together is at an end." He said with a sorrowful gaze. "We must get you to safety."

"Is there a place I can take her?" Essen asked and she turned to see his contemplative expression changed to a hard battle gaze for the first time in years.

"What about Your Lordsh-" She began, standing as delicately as she could with her heart beginning to speed up.

He shook his head. "No... they aren't after me." He looked toward Essen and nodded. "Lord Protector, I have an underground passage to the streets in the music room through that door." He directed, pointing towards the end of the room. "I suggest you go through and take Her Majesty back to her villa."

"But we-" Jessamine swallowed heavily, as Rossini quickly came up to her, his hands taking her arm to urge her to the back room. "Please, you must go Your Majesty, you must be safe."

"Quickly Empress, there's no time." Essen motivated.

A gunshot rang throughout the room, woodchips from the door bursting throughout the air. Jessamine cringed, covering her head with a short yell. Her ears began to ring. They all looked up towards the door only to see the guard who had locked it stare blankly back at them with a hole in his chest and blood seeping through his coat. He fell to the floor with a thud and the door slammed open once more.

Three men in dark clothing poured in, their tanned faces wrapped in ragged scarves. Another gunshot rang out and Jessamine fell forward as Essen shoved her out of the way. Her hand quickly grabbed at the carpet, scrambling to get upright once more. She heard a clash of swords and barely registered Rossini dragging her to her feet as she watched her Lord Protector cross arms with the assassins. He swung in angry formation, backing them away from the two regents.

"Essen!" She called out, even as Rossini pulled her to the end of the room.

"Go Empress!" Essen yelled back, not looking at her as he swung forward, stabbing one of them through the shoulder.

"Come quickly! We must get you out of here." Rossini yelled near her ear and she turned away, running with him to the music room. There was so much noise that her heart seemed to pound louder in her ears so she could hear it. Her hands grasped at Rossini as he reached the door and flung it open.

The doorway was engulfed with another man. Clad in black and bearing a sword. His greasy face was marred by a dark and violent looking tattoo. Rossini grabbed at her, shielding her with his arm as the killer took a step forward towards them.

But his hard expression bulked and his eyes seemed to jolt. A sickening sound of torn flesh accompanied the sudden protrusion of a blade through his chest. The assassin's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell to the ground, revealing another man behind him.

Jessamine shrunk back, assuming he was another assassin, with his exposed dark face and long hair. But it was his clothing that made her pause. He was wearing the Gristol uniform, blue and red. She glanced to his face as if still expecting a trap, but his gaze softened on her even as his hands yanked free his blade from the dead man's back.

"Corvo!" Rossini called. "_Meno male_!" Jessamine blinked wildly as Rossini rushed her toward the man and through the doorway. "Your Majesty, Corvo will take you - he will keep you safe." He explained in a hurry, gesturing them into the room. "Take her behind the hidden door in the music room. Take her back to her villa!"

Jessamine turned back to him in panic. "No! Lordship! You and Essen-my Protect-"

"GO!" He yelled back at her. She tried to protest but felt two arms wrap around her waist and rip her backwards.

"Essen!" She shouted again, but Rossini gave a small forced smile before shutting the door once more.

Her heart jumped to her throat, hammering loudly and forcing her to breathe raggedly through her lips. The man holding her forcibly turned her around, her shoes sliding on the tiles. She could barely think, her eyes leaving the closed door with reluctance to stare at her new escort's face. He crossed the room with her towards an ornate fireplace behind a piano. Corvo's grip on her arms lessened as he crouched and reach up into the chimney. A grinding of stone hissed before them and Jessamine watched as the fireplace stones moved to expose a set of stairs leading below ground.

No, she couldn't leave, not without her Protector. Not without Essen, or Rossini for that matter. Corvo began to direct her in but she bulked, whipping her face around to his, her eyes wide and flickering. "No please! I can't leave them I-"

Corvo's mouth parted and she paused for him to speak... but after a quick pause he said nothing and his mouth simply closed again.

He glanced around quickly before looking back at her and simply shook his head. He pushed at her shoulders again, a bit more gently than before, and this time Jessamine went. His silence seemed more hopeless than if he had verbally negated her. She knew she had too; she could only hope that Essen would do his duty and that Rossini was right that they only wanted her.

The stairs were rough stone, and the pathway was narrow and very dark aside from the light streaming in from the room. The dust greedily grabbed onto her clothing as soon as she began downward. She reached flat ground in a few short steps and paused, looking back up to Corvo. His hand traced the wall and suddenly the floor above them began to close shut.

The light grew slimmer and slimmer and soon they were encased in darkness.

* * *

_Note: Again, I had intended this chapter to be extremely long. But As I write Corvo & Jessamine running from Assassins, it seems to get longer and longer! And I don't want to cut up such a frantic scene. _

_I've been getting some comments on my horrid, horrid typo's and errors. That's my fault forgive me! I have no beta reader. I'm forcing myself to read and re-read and re-read again to fix them. I also went back to fix the ones in the last chapters. Don't be afraid to let me know if you see something! _


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

**Passages**

Jessamine gasped audibly, her body tensing. She suddenly felt more vulnerable than she had in the room with the assassins. She tried to focus her eyesight, but could see nothing in the pitch blackness of the passage. She waited for direction, but when she heard none she spoke. "I...I can't lead us I can't-"

A calloused hand grabbed at hers and she jumped in surprise. She tried to pinpoint Corvo's face with no luck. He began tugging them forward, or what she imagined to be forward in the utter void around them. Her hands grasped at his in her anxiety and she slowly grabbed upward until she had hold of his entire elbow for better guidance.

How would they get straight to the Villa? Couldn't they just stay and hide for some time before the men were killed or run off? She wondered if Rossini would try and buy them off their target, or if Essen had slayed them. Her logical mind told her that there would be more. That they couldn't hide in a place from dozens of men and that if she didn't flee now they would certainly try and kill her when she returned. It seemed her stay in Serkonos was at an end.

They ran for a short time before a gleam of light sliced her vision and she looked up to see the sudden forms of the walls around them as light came into view. She could see Corvo's form again and suddenly it clicked; Rossini's recognition of him and the familiar sound of his name. This was the man that had been gifted to her. An assassin from the Gallows. Just like the ones after them now.

Jessamine had the sudden urge to stop, frightened that this may all be a trap. But she remembered Rossini's urging for her safety and her trust of the young Lord. Gallows man or not, this was now her only option.

The light they neared did not grow bigger as they drew closer. And she realized as his hand pulled her towards the ground that they had to crouch through the opening in the wall to exit the corridor. Swallowing, she held on as they emerged in bright daylight. Her eyes had to adjust, barely piecing together the scenery of wooden posts and hay bales before Corvo put his arm around her shoulders and ducked her behind a low wall. A fierce noise erupted around them that she recognized as a horse's whinny. The stables. Her shoulder's relaxed a little and she waited as Corvo looked over the wall and above her head for any danger.

"Horses. We can ride back to the Villa then?" She asked, shifting on her legs beneath his much taller form. He paused, turning to look at her before shaking his head negatively. His hands pulled from hers swiftly to come before her eyes. She jerked back at the motion, staring at them in confusion before looking at his face, "What are you-"

His fingers began to move, tracing his own palm before coming together and forming symbols. They were all specific shapes that were made quickly and deftly. At one point his thumb even reached up to cross his chin before falling back down to his other palm.

Jessamine looked up at his eyes, eyes that stared back at her with such imploring she almost felt embarrassed beneath their gaze. She shook her head. "I don't... " She could see the sudden resigned look in his expression as she continued "I don't understand."

Corvo swallowed, his fingers flexing outward with some reserved feeling she didn't comprehend. Her brow furrowed. "Please, tell me, are we going straight to the Villa? What about Essen and his Lordship? What of-"

His hand lifted to silence her. She complied, pursing her lips and trying to regain her regal composure in their hectic moment. Corvo's cheek twitched and he looked around again, perhaps checking to make sure that for a while, here behind the stables, they were unseen and safe. His dark eyes turned back to regard her and his lips parted slightly. She rose a brow at his strange antics and was about to question him again when he suddenly opened his mouth wide.

Jessamine's hands flew to her mouth, cutting off the soft gasp that escaped her. She pressed her fingers into her face, her wide shocked eyes looking quickly away from his mutilated tongue.

His jaw clicked shut with a snap and he looked over her head again.

It was nearly gone! The pale flesh zigzagged across as if the stubbed muscle had been stitched and healed over onto itself. It looked utterly painful and the strange scarred pink tissue had whitened oddly. She tried to pull herself together, her hands falling away. "For-forgive me I- Are you alright?" She asked instinctively. He looked back down at her with slight confusion, his thick brows drawing together. "Did they... just now?" She asked tentatively.

His mouth twitched and he shook his head. She nodded thankfully, her hands clamping over her chest.

It came together now, why he hadn't said a word to her. And then suddenly she remembered his intricate hands. "You're mute. That's why you…"

She sighed before catching his gaze once more. She shook her head in hopelessness, her own hands splaying outward. "I don't know how to sign or... or read it." She explained. "But I..." Her hand touched his fist held loosely on his knee and she nodded at him. "I trust your judgment Corvo. If his Lordship trusted you than I shall too, with my safety."

It was a big thing to do. Jessamine felt a bit strained at the words as she said them, not knowing how truly she meant them. But she couldn't give any other options in such a dire situation. She had no idea how to get back to her Villa, alone, in the middle of Karnaca. Nor did she know if the assassins still chased her and she had no one but Corvo to defend and lead her. She would have to trust him if it were to be her best option to get home to find out if the others were alright.

Corvo's stern eyes took in her words, his other hand moving to grasp hers as he nodded in acknowledgment. She was about to smile back at him a bit reassuringly, but he stood them up so suddenly she did not get the chance.

They appeared to have come out of the secret passage into the back wall of the stables, on the far end of all the horse stalls. Corvo checked around the corner before leading them both out.

His arm wrapped about her shoulders while the other held fast onto her hand. Their pace was urgent and Jessamine felt each step quickening her heart beat. The stables seemed abandoned as they walked down the shaded housing. The noises of the horses had her as frightened as a bird. She kept expecting each neigh and whinny to be the ripping sound of gunfire or a sword barreling toward them. She tensed at east beast they passed as it nicked it's head at them.

When they emerged from the large building straight out into the open, it was only a simple dirt road to the gates leading out to the streets of the city. Corvo's eyes glanced around, the pause only momentary before he urged them forward to the exit.

But where were the guards? She wondered, seeing no one but themselves as they hurried to the iron fences. Had they all been rushed inside to fight off the assassins? Or had they been dealt with when the intruders snuck in? She had the immediate instinct to ask Corvo, but the question died on her lips when she glanced at his mouth and remembered his disability to answer.

As they neared the gate a smacking sound hit their ears. At first Jessamine had thought it a horse's trot in the dirt, when suddenly Corvo's hand on hers spun her outward. She twisted beneath his arm in a rush, away from the sudden sound of clashing metal. Disorientated she looked up to see Corvo parry a blade away from his face, with a blade of his own drawn so fast she hadn't seen it. She stepped backward quickly as she took in the full view of the new assassin. Her back hit the gates and startled, she turned to shake the wrought iron as if to open it, spotting a lock and chain with panic.

The man was bearing his weight down on their crossed metal and Corvo's jaw clenched in resistance. They fought for dominance for mere seconds until Corvo suddenly released, letting his blade be pushed down toward him. His head moved to the side and he pushed his forearms out, his blade and the attacker's falling through the gap of his arms. His sword twisted back up, digging itself in the assassin's throat. His hand sprang up to grab the assassin's head, shoving his chin further down the steel. The blood poured out until the man's eyes went rolling in the back of his head and Jessamine turned away from the gruesome sight, hearing only the squelching thud when Corvo shoved him off to the ground.

A shot of gunfire rang out from across the grounds and his eyes spotted a few more assassins barreling towards them like bats out of the stables. He rushed back toward Jessamine, his arm wrapping around her slight shoulders once more and pulling her into his body so they could not aim for her. He pulled out his own gun and Jessamine jumped at the bang of it. The metal lock dropped to the ground and Corvo yanked the gates open. His hand grabbed onto her, glancing at the oncoming assailants before running again.

Another gunshot sprang them into a hurried frenzy. Jessamine clutched onto Corvo with sweaty hands. He pulled them directly into the city with no heed to the citizens around them as they all began shouting and running at the sound of guns. She barely caught their yells as the wind ripped past her ears and Corvo suddenly drove them to a sharp right down an alley.

The buildings of Karnaca were a farce. They were all short and made of aged wood, and half attempted stone walling, as if to give off the image of renovation. The bleached stones were covered in layers of dirt that kicked up under their feet. And the large red canvas shadings were tattered and old.

The alley began to narrow. The buildings were always so tightly compacted with little to no land to share. She heard clattering from the entrance of the side street behind them and Jessamine attempted to look back, but Corvo placed a hand between her shoulders and urged her out of the alley onto another road.

They ran deeper into the city, cutting through a growing crowd of people. They must have been getting closer to the central market, Jessamine thought and cringed as people began to push and shove on the narrow streets. Their speed slowed with the throng of people and Corvo drew his arm around her once more to push them through safely. She had never been so thrown from her composure. The smell of flesh, the heat of the sun, coupled with their chasing assassins and her left behind comrades began to bear down on her. Queasiness overtook her stomach that she tried to hold it back with a swallow of saliva.

"Corvo, please, mustn't we find a place to hide?" she couldn't help but insist loudly up at his profile, watching his eyes flickering wildly about their path. His gaze turned down at her briefly, but otherwise he didn't acknowledge her. She turned to glance over her shoulder, but saw nothing of the assassins who had had been so hot on their trail.

Jessamine was trying to keep herself together. But her throat was tight and her hands were gripping the wool of his Gristol coat as if her life depended on it. The nudges and proximity of the people was blurring her mind. Even the loud sounds of shouting people, buzzing chatter, and merchant stalls were muted from her addled brain. She had never been this clustered before. She felt hopeless to their direction. She felt like cattle. "Corvo-" she called again.

His arm reached back to pull her forward, much to her relief, onto the porch of some building. A few other people glanced at them curiously as the loitered on the steps above the mob. She let her chest heave, looking up at the large doors of the building before them. Corvo on the other hand, stared straight at where they came from. The building was pretty, if harshly run down. With faded Serknonan lettering hanging from a wooden sign.

Jessamine had barely turned back in time to catch the sight of the assassins in the river of people before Corvo grabbed her shoulder once more and drove her towards the door of the building, urging her inside.

The coolness of being indoors washed over her instantly. Only a small relief in their predicament. A haze of smoke was level with her eyes and her vision had to adjust to it and the stark blackness of the building from the outside sun. All the windows of the building seemed to be shuttered tightly, with the only light from sun streaming through gaps in the stones and wood. A few flickering candles did little to help.

At first it looked like some sort of housing to her. With a scrounged up set of lounge chairs decorating the front room, and a windowed wall with movement of people beyond it. A few coughs alerted her to a woman leaning against another wall, smoking heavily and staring at them indifferently. Jessamine frowned deeply, staring at the woman's state of dress or lack of it, in her ragged clothing one could barely excuse as a dress.

Corvo walked forward without her and Jessamine hurried after him. He seemed not notice the strangeness of the place or the woman staring at them. A smacking of footsteps began from deeper in the house and a door opened to reveal another just as scantily clad woman. She was dark, Serkonan, and her painted face drew in anger when she spotted Corvo and Jessamine. "_No, no! I nostri solo le donne_!" She snapped, her hands shaking at them dismissively.

Corvo stepped in front of her and Jessamine watched as his hands flew up, signing quickly. The woman seemed to pause, staring at him as he spoke in silence. His hands repeated a few motions with an urgency even Jessamine recognized as insistence. A plea.

The woman seemed to contemplate whatever he had said to her, closing her eyes in frustration before nodding. "_Vai. L'ultima stanza a destra."_ She waved them toward the door she had come from and Corvo turned back to Jessamine. His hand touched her shoulder gently, pushing her toward the entrance. Jessamine swallowed, her mind reeling with everything that was happening, but she gave the best regal nod she could and let him direct them further into the house.

It wasn't until they were walking down the hall past another woman dressed only in a corset, with a greasy looking native behind her, that Jessamine realized they were in a brothel. It was further proved by some of the open doors along the hall that exposed the lavish and suggestive decorum of a pleasure house. She bulked, but the calloused hands she had grown accustomed to in the time since Rossini's music room urged her onward.

When they came to a door on the end, Corvo pushed it open and gestured her inside.

Thankfully, this appeared to be an office rather than a room. "Are we to hide here?" She asked aloud.

Corvo said nothing, moving past her and further into the room. There was a desk pressed up against the wall, with a chaise on the other side and a nightstand with an oil lantern atop it. It flickered as Corvo moved it and the stand away from the corner wall; with it out of the way he pressed himself against the small space left next to the desk.

It would almost be comical if he were truly suggesting it a hiding place.

But with a thump of his shoulder the wall pushed through and the wood panel opened like a door, revealing another passageway. Her mouth parted in confusion. How had he known that was there...? In this strange building they seemed to have fled into under desperate circumstances? Had the woman told him?

As surprising and convenient as it was, Jessamine didn't look forward to another pitch black and narrow cranny to move through.

He looked up from gazing down the passage's length and caught her gaze. His hands lifted instinctually to shape words, but his fingers merely twitched before lowering.

Jessamine stepped toward him, as if to meet him halfway. "Is this the way out now? Or are we to hide here?" She asked. He seemed to hesitate and she wondered at herself how she expected him to answer in the first place.

He came toward her, hands snatching hers, startling her. She wanted to immediately pull away, but she forced her composure under his close proximity.

Corvo's fingers splayed to press her own flat. He exposed her palm to the ceiling and tapped a few times experimentally. He paused and began a slow, steady tapping upon her hand. Jessamine recognized his intent instantly, but her shoulders dropped and she looked at him with remorse. "I do not know the Naval Morse code either..." She trailed. She imagined he would have cursed, the way his cheeks twitched and his brows drew together. A thought came to her and she pushed her palm at him again. "Draw the letters?" She suggested, her head tilting curtly at him. "If you know our written word…?" His hands hovered for a moment, but he nodded.

She could feel the ripped skin on his fingers, calloused and dirty as they traced shapes on her palm. She forced herself to concentrate, trying to make out the letters one by one. "S." She spoke quietly and he nodded heavily. "E." Her hand twitched upward as his nail scratched into her palm.

She glanced at him as he finished, and caught his lips twitching in movement, as if to whisper the characters to himself in concentration. She looked back down as he began once more. "W."

The shouts of a woman in the Serkonan language erupted from outside the room and they both tensed and snapped their gazes toward the door. Another yell - a man - and Jessamine gasped. Corvo enveloped her immediately, throwing them towards the corner opposite the door. The chaise lounge obscured them from view if they crouched down low enough and Jessamine trembled in Corvo's arms as another scream erupted from the room on the other side of the wall. There was a loud shuffling outside and she breathed harshly in trepidation. Had they found them again so quickly? She looked toward Corvo's still expression. "Is it-"

His finger pressed gently to his lips and he stared at her intently.

The light from the hallway shining through the bottom of the door cut in two as someone's legs appeared before it. Jessamine stared at the silhouette as Corvo watched the door. A few seconds passed like whole minutes.

The door burst open and she jumped, her hands pressing into her mouth to stifle any noise. The man stormed in, heading towards the passageway they had left open. Jessamine only caught a glimpse of him behind the corner of the chaise, but she recognized him as another killer.

The was a clicking noise near her ears and she turned to see Corvo pull back the hammer on his pistol only seconds before it went off like a clap of thunder. She jumped in terror and Corvo leapt out from beside her toward the assassin, who was shouting in pain at the gunshot through his ankle. The cutthroat threw his arms out to push Corvo away from his oncoming lunge, but could not stop the weight tackling him into the wall. Shattering glass flew from the nightstand as they barreled into it. Corvo's arm locked around the man's neck from behind as the wrestled, kicking at the walls and desk. The assassin's hands scrambled desperately to rip at Corvo's arm, his face turning red as he began to lose air.

Jessamine stared in horror from the corner of the chaise. Corvo's hand suddenly loosened, whipping to his side to pull out his pistol once more. The click preceded the awful bang to the side of the man's head in Corvo's arms and blood exploded outward to spatter against the wall. Jessamine gave soft cry, turning her eyes away.

The assassin hit the ground with a thud and Corvo wasted no time in crossing back to close and lock the door this time. Jessamine slid upward to her feet with the help of the wall at her back, her eyes locked on the mutilated head on the ground, bleeding out against the floors.

Corvo glanced at her for a second, the side of his face marred with the blood spatter. Turning back into action, he crouched by the dead assassin and began ripping the dark coat free of his arms. He patted the man's trousers, pilfering some bullets he found. The he began grasping at his own coat, ripping at the Girstol buttons to open them. She stared in cofusion. Had he been wounded? She panicked at the idea. "A-Are you hurt?" She questioned shakily aloud.

He shook his head without turning to her, but continued to shed his officer's coat. He bunched it up, rubbing it over his face to wipe away the blood. Some of it streaked against his hair and cheek. He tossed the bloody Gristol coat to the ground and replaced it with the assassin's leather overcoat. He shifted, looking to examine Jessamine. Her face flushed under his scrutiny despite her shaking nerves, but she made no move from the wall when he stood. He looked about the room before crossing to the shuttered window above the desk to yank one of the curtains off it's hooks. Corvo approached her with it slowly, raising it in his hands as if for her inspection. His eyes looked into hers with the same softness from when he had first seen her. She swallowed, her mind trying to ignore the fact that she had just seen him blow the head off a man.

She touched it the curtain warily, no doubt with a look of puzzlement on her features, for he ignored her hands and instead threw the fabric about her head and shoulders himself. He pulled the hood around her hair and tied the ends loosely on her chest. The action was slow, and almost calming in its simplicity after the attack that just occurred. Jessamine allowed it, if only because she didn't understand the necessity of the fabric and because it eased the shaking in her away.

Either way, he seemed to have intent in his actions and when he looked her over once more he looked satisfied. His hands carefully took hers again, and he walked her backwards toward the passage. She kept her eyes deliberately on him and not the body on the ground. She didn't bother asking him about what they were doing this time. Obviously, there was no time for fumbled communication.

She entered first and just like with Rossini's passageway, Corvo closed this one behind them as well. Luckily they weren't thrown in darkness, something she was entirely grateful by.

Spots of light made from small rectangle shaped gaps in the wall to their right seemed to guide them down the passage. The slots looked man made, not unintentional. As they passed the first hole Jessamine caught sight of movement. On the second she paused to glance inward. She realized abruptly that they were peep holes into the other rooms of the brothel.

"Oh-" she gasped, ashamedly. The embarrassing emotion filled her and took away her shaken-ness from before. A light breath of sound whispered near her head, and she glanced to Corvo behind her. His expression was hard to see, but his eyes looked light and his lips were parted easily. She flushed, facing forward. He had laughed at her.

At the end of the narrow path the light changed to a golden source, a leaking oil lantern dangling from the ceiling. It illuminated the walls around them which seemed to change from the old rotted wood to mismatched bricks and packed dirt. She was so distracted, she nearly fell straight down the sudden drop below the lantern, had Corvo not caught and held her back. Her body tingled with the near weightlessness she had almost encompassed and she breathed shakily. Corvo steadied her and pulled her back toward his side. He squeezed past her to crouch down near the edge of their path, and she watched as he turned around and began to descend down a ladder she had not seen.

He paused, looking straight up at her and raised his hand to motion for her to follow.

They weren't climbing down for long and Jessamine was glad. After a certain point, she felt Corvo's hands suddenly about her waist and was startled right off the ladder. He hoisted her down onto the ground before him and she instantly cringed at the fowl stench that permeated the air. She looked about, the space illuminated by more flickering oil lamps. They stood upon a pathway that curved along a rounded wall, the ceilings doming above them. It was cooler down here, if moist and rancid. There was a grate walkway connecting their path with another across from them, with murky opaque water flowing slowly beneath. The Sewers.

His slow letters on her palm came back to her thoughts and she smiled. She pulled the fabric hood around her to block the stench and wondered at his insight. "So this is for the smell then, Corvo?" She asked.

He had been surveying the pathways in front of them, but turned back to her attention. He shook his head in disagreement, but didn't give any other answers before continuing on their way through the underground.

* * *

The sewers seemed to go on forever.

The smell, though unbearable, seemed to be the only dangers to them below ground. They walked at a steady pace and while Corvo still seemed focused and attentive to their direction and her proximity, he did not seem as tense or as rushed to get her away. She wondered constantly how far away they were from the palace and what had become of Essen and Rossini. Jessamine assumed that once she arrived back at the Villa, she would order the rest of her guardsmen, servants, and advisors to pack up and sail back to Gristol. There was no more point in staying and it was obviously no longer safe. But she couldn't help fighting her judgment on whether or not to wait for Essen. He was her Royal Protector after all. But it would be senseless to gather up soldiers and storm back to the palace for him. No... She knew Essen would urge her to leave without him if he was somehow detained.

Perhaps he would be fine in Rossini's care and would meet her back in Dunwall.

A noise alerted her back to the present, looking up from watching her own steps to see a few people ahead of them, sitting against the walls of the sewer. They were tussled together with worn blankets and scattered papers, their dirty hands and feet trying to find warmth in their rags. Homeless.

Poor souls, Jessamine contemplated, thinking of those similar in her own cities, though she had never been so close to them before. Corvo pulled her to his side as they passed them and she couldn't help but glance at their faces from behind his protection as they did.

They saw a few more vagabonds, walking the opposite pathway or sleeping with stacks of boxes and crates under lamplight. Corvo seemed suspicious of everyone. He would always switch sides with her, placing himself between her and all the strangers they passed. It wasn't until they turned another corner and continued some way before he relaxed again.

Finally, weary of her own thoughts on their trek she spoke. "How is it you know exactly where we are headed? The passages all look similar to me." She commented. His attention turned once more on her as her voice broke their silence. She nearly forgot how concentrated his scrutiny was. "Or are we simply abiding time before resurfacing?"

Corvo continued to look down at her, his expression deeply contemplative. Jessamine's shoulders shifted, her hands rising to tug at the fabric he had placed on her. She had never experienced such intense stares. It was almost impolite the way he looked on her, and not because it was lewd... but because he stared with such intensity. She looked away first. "I know you have no means to answer me, but I simply ask because I am... discomforted in my lack of help." She continued, glancing back at him.

This time Corvo immediately looked away from her. But his hand rose, and a finger tapped at his head deliberately. She nodded to herself; he simply knew the sewers very well. She supposed being a Gallows' assassin born and bred would mean he knew Serkonos extremely well. It was almost a silly question now that she thought on it.

Jessamine thought to ask him if he was indeed an assassin from the Gallows, or whether or not he had been born in Serkonos- but her thoughts were interrupted as they turned another corner towards a dead end. She thought them lost, but Corvo continued forward towards the stone walling, and gestured towards a pipe ladder leading towards a metal hatch.

She hurried forward and he motioned for her to follow him up. Jessamine only wished they were indeed rising to the surface. She didn't think she could continue on in the sewers much longer. She watched as his boots climbed before her eyes, hers hands moving to each rung slowly. They paused near the top, and she peered up to watch him crank the handle of the hatch and budge it open. He was cautious, as always, cracking it open slightly to take a view around before pushing it open and hoisting himself out.

Jessamine followed, but as she reached the top and attempted to crawl out, his large hands came down and he assisted her anyway. When her feet touched the ground she adjusted herself, muttering curt thanks even as he looked around.

They were in another alley, along the edge of a street. The buildings surrounding them were much shorter than that of the market square, and it was very quiet with no one walking around save for a stray dog, ragged and weary as it sniffed the stones for food. Corvo touched her shoulder, pulling her out from the shade of the alley into the street and Jessamine regarded the sights with utter surprise. They must have been on the very edge of Karnaca, for the buildings were all sparse and more run down. The street they were on seemed to lead straight towards the coast, as it turned into nothing but a dirt path with only a few shacks speckled here and there on the horizon. As they crossed the empty street she looked backward, and sure enough the silhouette of the palace was some ways in the distance, nearly invisible in the heat waves of her vision.

He led them to what looked like a small grocery hut, with vegetables lining its worn stalls. Parked in front of it was an old horse drawn cart. With the horse dirty and flicking it's tail in the heat and the cart worn and full of sacks. The door to the hut was open and an old Serkonan woman leaned out of it, fanning herself and staring at them as they approached. Corvo paused and lifted his hands to pat the air towards Jessamine. She understood that gesture enough, and stood, waiting patiently in the sun.

She watched with interest as the old Serkonan woman wafted herself and stared at Corvo's hands as they began to move. Did everyone in Serkonos know signing? Jessamine wondered if he was explaining who she was and what they had been through. Or perhaps he was asking her for refuge? She looked about, seeing nothing before the building save for the cart of goods.

The woman spoke, pointing way down the dirt road to the coast, before shouting behind her to the inside of the building. An elderly man emerged and spoke with the woman. Her husband maybe, Jessamine concluded to herself.

The man nodded a few times, before looking at Corvo and then glancing at Jessamine. He stuck out his hand and Corvo approached it, digging coins from his pocket and placing them in the man's palm. Jessamine frowned deeply, but the old Serkonan seemed pleased and motioned to his cart, heading towards the front of it.

Corvo turned towards her, motioning to the cart as well, his hand grasping her shoulder as she drew close enough. She stepped up to him but didn't move. "Did you pay them?" She asked intent that he had not spent money on her account. He simply pressed a finger to his lips and urged her again. She frowned but complied. He led her to the back of the cart and hoisted her onto it next to the sacks of food. Corvo seated himself next to her before smacking the wood with his hand. There was a bustle of reigns, a call from the old man, and then the cart jolted to a start.

Jessamine watched quietly as the old woman saw them off, and the expanse of Karnaca's outskirts began to grow smaller. She swallowed, looking up towards the palace. Only a few hours ago she had watched the same view in the company of her Lord Protector and in the safety of her carriage. Now she swayed on the rickety vegetable cart beside Corvo, taking her back to her Villa. She sighed, looking towards her companion.

Corvo's dark hair shifted in the warm wind, his eyes watching the city as well. She allowed herself to stare beneath her hood now that they seemed to be safe and on their way back.

He was young. Not as young as Lord Rossini, and nowhere near as well-groomed. Corvo looked worn. He had a 5'oclock shadow and strong, prominent features. The cheek exposed to her in his profile sported a light, white scar down to his jaw, not really noticeable at a glance. He turned to glance at her and she faltered, looking for words to excuse her gaze. "We...are returning to the Villa now?" She asked.

He nodded and his hands rose, before falling once more. His cheek twitched, a notion she took as exasperation. It seemed that not only was he mute, but quite reserved in his emotions as well. She allowed herself a small chuckle, their communication truly hopeless. But she raised her palm out to him, pushing it toward his hands as she had back at the brothel. He took it gently, the cart rustling their shoulders together as he settled her hand before him.

Corvo seemed to think for some time at what to write, holding her hand delicately. His finger traced her palm carefully, and she stared down at the shapes with a calmness she could only recognize as oncoming exhaustion. "S." She spoke quietly. She felt him nod, his head bumping gently onto hers. Her shoulders settled and her legs drew up into herself a bit more comfortably, while Corvo's dangled off the cart. "A?" She questioned, his finger sliding awkwardly along her skin under the turbulent road. She thought he nodded before beginning again. "F." Jessamine felt her eyes flicker drowsily and she tried to blink herself back into focus. The heat bearing down on her shoulders and the stress pulling at her consciousness was beginning to make her weary. "E." She finished. Corvo's hands fell away slowly, leaving her palm exposed in the empty air. "Safe." She completed looking up at him, her hand lowering to her own lap. Corvo nodded at her, his expression perhaps the softest she had seen since he had taken her away at the palace.

Safe. The word eased gently into her mind and she nearly forgot what it was supposed to answer in the first place.

As the sand slowly shifted and the city grew smaller, Jessamine felt her head slacken. She closed her eyes to the heat at first...but soon, she drifted to sleep on the broad shoulder next to her.

* * *

_Note: Lengthy! I didn't want to cut up these scenes into repeater chapters, so forgive the length. Next chapter is already written, so should be up soon. I'm a bit worried on the pacing of this chapter. It's very fast-slow-fast-slow. So I hope it reads alright, and not too fast during the slowness and vice versa..._


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

**Orders, Majesty?**

It was the softest touch that woke her.

A shifting beneath her head made her mind stir through the deep exhaustion that had overcome her. She drowsed, wondering at the sudden weight upon her shoulder. Her sleep had been lethargic even in its shortness and Jessamine's eyes opened slowly at first, before snapping open in surprise when she realized someone was standing close to her, waking her.

Her fright only lasted a few seconds though, as the face became familiar in her sudden consciousness. Concerned eyes looked at her from a darkened face, flickering about her from head to toe as if to make sure she was alright. "Corvo?" She asked before breathing a sigh of relief. Her hand went to soothe the back of her neck and she scooted away from his close proximity, very much aware of how improper she appeared. Not to mention how unseemly it was for her to fall asleep in the company of another. It was uncouth behavior for an Empress.

Her shame only lasted so long though, as their situation came back to her mind quickly. She looked around warily, seeing that their small vegetable cart had stopped in the middle of the pathways. The dirt lands around them had grown softer.

The air had gotten much cooler. The sun was only a glimmer of bright golden on the horizon, bleeding red into a darkening purple sky. She could feel a slight breeze, warm as it was, playing with her matted hair.

She attempted to push herself from the cart on her own, but Corvo's hands came forward to hoist her down anyway. She would have objected, especially since he had been doing such actions all day. But considering the circumstances she was glad for the attentive gestures even if it was improper and unnecessary.

When she stood on her own feet, she looked up to Corvo to see him staring off beyond the stopped cart. Following his gaze she nearly sighed again in utter relief at the vision of the Villa. Lights from its windows shone in the darkening night, blinking out at them like a safe haven.

She wondered if Essen would already be inside, with some of her other soldiers. Perhaps they had gotten back quicker than she had, considering they had walked nearly the entire way back through the city sewers. She couldn't help to stop the hope beginning to bloom within her at the thought.

Corvo waved to the cart driver as they passed, who began to pull away. He then began his steady escort of Jessamine into the grounds.

A few shadows before the gates appeared and she recognized their forms as her own guards. Despite this, Corvo still moved protectively in front of her as they approached.

"The Villa is closed!" A voice shouted toward them. Corvo paused before the two men, lifting an arm to interrupt their next command. He then moved to expose Jessamine slightly. She could see their apprehensive expressions thrown dramatically as the sun died on the horizon of the coast and the gate lamplights flickered on above them.

"At ease, Guardsmen." She called, her hands rising to pull down the fabric of her makeshift hood. "I am Empress Kaldwin. My entourage in-"

"Majesty!" The first guard shouted, and they both bowed immediately, their sword sheaths clanking as they did so. "Quick! Open the gates for Her Highness." One rushed to the other. The wrought iron gate opened with a resounding clatter and he motioned for her to enter. "Please, get inside, your Majesty, where it is safe! Our Chief Officer awaits you inside. They have been panicking since we got word from Karnaca."

Jessamine frowned. "Has my Royal Protector returned?" She asked a bit urgently. The guardsmen did not straighten from his bow as he answered.

"No, your Majesty. Only a few soldiers came to bring word of the attack."

She nodded, feeling her throat clench with worry. Corvo gently lead her past them towards the entrance of the Villa. When they reached the doors, another guard frantically opened them. He urged them inside at the surprise of a few servants, milling about the foyer. They stared unabashedly at the sudden appearance of the Empress and the strange Serkonan.

No doubt they looked like two rats from the streets, dragged in like poor beggars.

The grand foyer of the Villa was nothing like her own Dunwall Tower. But it was still a beautiful sight for tired eyes. It was styled with traditional Serkonan architecture. Some of the shutters in the second story were open, letting in the warm air from the coast. Jessamine looked toward her escort, nodding to him. He seemed a bit distracted, his eyes tracing the ceiling and walls as If looking for any surprises. "Corvo, if you would mind finding the Officer to—"

"Majesty!" A shout rang out. Jessamine and Corvo turned at the booming sound, the latter tensing immediately. A handful of soldiers poured in from the parlor room, all staring in shock at the two of them. A man in a heavier Gristol coat with a military cap on, who she assumed was the Chief Officer, stepped forward tentatively. His eyes flickered to Corvo in confusion before suddenly he drew his sword. "Step away from our Empress!" He roared. "Arrest him!"

A few screams of servants pierced the room as the handful of soldiers reacted like a gunshot, rushing towards Corvo. The twang of swords lit the air as they all unsheathed their weapons. Corvo stepped backward into her, his hands rising to shield her, but he made no moves for his weapons. "No!" She yelled instinctively.

The surrounded them in a flash and as Jessamine tried to understand the meaning of the situation they grabbed Corvo, dragging him away. He made no attempts to fight them, but his feet and body dragged against them as he tried to stay near her.

"Stop!" Jessamine called in horror, her hands trying to reach toward him when another soldier pulled her away. They pushed Corvo to his knees harshly, cornering him with their steel. The Serkonan went easily, bowing his head low to the floor without resistance.

The Chief Officer stepped before his detained form and Jessamine shouted again, her voice deep in her chest at her outrage. "Stop this! Unhand him!"

All eyes went to her. She pushed against the soldier holding her, ripping her arm away and stepping forward. She stood tall, raising her chin and glaring ice at the Officer and his men. "Release him!" She commanded once more and the soldiers, confused, began to reluctantly lower their weapons.

The Officer stepped toward her. "Your Majesty, I don't understand-?" He tried, his hand motioning towards Corvo as if their actions seemed obvious.

"Of course you don't! He's a guardsman!" She chided, walking over to push past the soldiers around the quietly detained man. They parted quickly for her, with hasty bows and murmured apologies. She pulled Corvo to his feet by his arm, turning to scowl at the Officer. "He's responsible for my safety from the attack at the Lord's palace! You will treat him with respect."

The Officer bowed low, and all the soldiers in the front parlor followed suit. "Forgive me, Empress. I had assumed-"

"Assumed? That he was vile because he was Serkonan?" She accused.

"N-No Empress. Only that... it was Serkonan men that had attacked you today. Or it was reported-"

"No assumption is acceptable. Not when I was under no visible duress." She corrected.

"Of course, Majesty." He complied. The Chief Officer's eyes still looked suspicious, glancing up at Corvo as Jessamine took her stance before him. A motion that indicated he was a higher rank of guardsmen than the rest, with her vulnerable back exposed to him alone.

Jessamine sighed; her tense shoulder's only barely relaxing from her anger. Her sleep upon the cart seemed so long ago, even if it hadn't been truly comfortable, it had been a small escape from the tragedies of the day. The offense was a great one and had they been in Gristol she would have ordered punishment. Suspension. But all current situations called for quicker forgiveness and all the hands she could afford.

"You may rise." She ordered. He and the others all stood at attention at her words. "Please Officer, report to me."

The Chief Officer saluted, his feet drawing tight as he stared politely past her shoulder. His words were not so harsh as his confident commands and she saw his new apprehension at his blunder, even if his eyes scrutinized the mute behind her. "Empress. We received a message three hours ago that the palace had been attacked by natives. A further report confirms the attack to be of Gallows Assassins." He glanced at her for only a second for her approval before continuing. "You were last seen with Lord Protector Essen and his Lordship Rossini. Your whereabouts and status were unknown until now, Majesty. Our regiments here were gathering to send out search teams in the city for you."

"What of Lord Essen and the Lordship Rossini?"

"We have had no word."

Jessamine nodded, her weary eyes forcing her commanding expression. "I am ordering the house for immediate leave. I wish my ships to be ready as soon as they are able for my return to Gristol." She commanded. "I trust that you will be able to secure the safety here until we are ready to depart?"

"It will be done, Empress." He promised, and already she saw the other guardsmen moving into action. Servants motioned to each other frantically. The house would be utter chaos as they all packed and rushed to board the ships in the back of the compound. Jessamine was tired, but there was much to be done. She knew she would be allowed no sleep until they boarded.

The Officer took his leave and the Empress watched him go before she turned to the Serkonan guardsmen behind her. She barely said his name before he was instantly lowering himself to one knee, a pair of fingers signing to his heart and then his hip. She frowned as the formal transition, his head bowed to await his orders. "Corvo?" She asked uncertainly.

"Your Majesty." A soft voice interrupted. She turned to meet the gentle eyes of a woman a bit older than her, dorned in a dark green suit. Clara, her matron. The woman was in charge of all her personal needs, domestic affairs, and the order of her servants in Dunwall, and therefore here. She stepped toward Jessamine through the busy servants and guards. She gave a curtsey while she said, "Would your Majesty like to retire to prepare for the trip?"

Jessamine gave her a thankful, tired smile. "Yes Clara." She agreed. She would need to be assure she herself was in order before she could then oversee preparations and organize her men. Without Essen there, she would have to do rounds until they were ready to set sail.

"You look in need of tending Madam." Clara frowned, coming forward with concern and placing her hand on Jessamine's arm, tugging very gently to lead her to her quarters.

"One moment, Clara." She said, turning to gaze at the Serkonan still at her feet. Now… what to do with him? She feared the suspicious nature of her men, enough to worry about sending him to report for duty to the Chief Officer.

"Please rise, guardsmen." She ordered. Corvo stood with an easy control bred better than some soldiers she'd seen. But unlike others who knew their place, Corvo's eyes locked on hers, awaiting her words as if he'd see them in her irises. "I would have you as my personal guardian and protector until we board the ships." She commanded and he nodded curtly. "It is my intention to have you stationed in Gristol, unless you would stay in Serkonos?"

Corvo, of course, said nothing. His eyes seemed to search her face, as if willing thoughts into the space between them. She imagined he indeed had things to say, by the way his fingers twitched at his sides, but eventually he simply bowed in acquiescence.

For now that was good enough and she could not help but feel comforted.

* * *

It wasn't until Jessamine was before the looking glass on her vanity that she realized what the day had done to her. She was visibly caked with dirt and grime. Her eyes appeared sunken on her blotchy skin, amplified by the shadows of the lamplight. She gently pulled the curtain wrapped about her off, folding it mechanically as she stared at her frayed and mussed hair. Where is once had been pulled crisp and pinned, it was now loose and everywhere with the elegant hair pin missing.

Her fine clothes were ruined, and she found a tear in her sleeve that she could not remember the origin of. The dust of Serkonos made the black suit look faded and old, and as she shook her hair she felt more dirt fall from her head and shoulders.

Her mind roamed over the day's events with a blurred clarity. She did not think she had ever been in such a dire situation of her own life before. Never had she been so detached from her own world and thrown into danger. She was still reeling from the idea that on several moments she had almost died. Had it not been for the Serkonon guard gifted to her by Rossini, she would have.

She realized she had not thanked him once.

Clara returned to her from filling a basin with water. There was no time for a bath, unfortunately, but she needed to appear presentable enough to bring her soldiers to order. She washed her hands eagerly as her matron began helping her from her ruined clothing.

She paused, glancing at the door behind her through the mirror. Corvo stood just beyond it. She could see the slivers of his shoes just beneath the cracks. He was an attentive guard, a protective one. That was certain.

"Clara?"

"Yes Empress?"

"Do you speak sign?"

"Sign, Madam?"

Jessamine frowned in thought. "Yes, the signing of a mute or of the deaf."

Clara gathered up the ruined clothes with a shake of her head and an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid not Madam, never had the need in my duties or family."

Jessamine smiled, jerking her chin in dismissal. She glanced at the door again.

Her expressed gratitude, it seemed, would have to wait.

* * *

When her ships were prepared with her aboard and ready for sail, Nicolai Essen and his men returned.

They had called for her from the cabins she had barely settled into. She had urgently run out to greet her Royal Protector, much to her new personal guard's apprehension. Her heart had beat wildly, a heaviness in her gut not quite preparing her for the sight of the men coming up the ramps to the sea vessel.

They all looked haggard and worn. Some were adorned with bandages.

They carried Essen on a stretcher up the ramps.

An officer motioned her aside as the men hastened to take Essen's form into the lower decks. He explained that her Royal Protector had been shot through the side. They suspected his ribs had shattered from the blow, and they weren't sure if the bullet was still lodged in him somewhere. He had been unconscious on the trip back but his body was fighting for life against the pain.

Jessamine watched with a hand placed upon her mouth, taking in the information as dutifully as she could.

Lord Rossini survived, her officer explained. The assassins made a point not to kill the man. But near ten of her own soldiers had died, and a few others survived casualties. They counted more than ten assassins at one time and suspected more had been present. Her men had taken none prisoner and had also been unsuccessful killing any.

Nothing was known about the order to take her life.

She could feel Corvo shifting behind her. Though from angry or uneasiness she didn't know, her mind wrapped in worry for Essen.

"The best we can do is pray the Lord Protector lasts until we reach Dunwall, Majesty." The officer bowed to her.

Jessamine's heart clenched as she heard the Captain call out for the ship to leave port. The men around her began bustling with pulling the ramp aboard and releasing the sails. She wordlessly let Corvo take her back to her own private room below.

It would take three days before they reached Dunwall.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

**Exaltation**

The Royal Protector, Nicolai Essen, did not make it through the night.

Jessamine had not seen him when he passed.

They had escorted her into his quarters to say her goodbyes to her loyal companion and dear friend. He had been the last of the connections to happy days (and the bad days) with her father. She could still remember the times he had watched her at her father's side as she recited cities of Gristol for the soldiers, her just a small girl. He had taught her what each part of the sword was called, and in which order's ranks in the military were received.

He had been one of the few she could speak to in earnest, in trust; a rare luxury in her life of regalia.

They had asked if she wished to have a ceremony at sea, which she denied. He would be buried in Dunwall on the Royal grounds such as he deserved.

She had locked herself away after that. The image of Essen's cold face, older and paler than she ever remembered seeing him, haunted her mind as she walked the seemingly long hallway back to her quarters. She had dismissed whoever had opened the door for her in a haze, requesting quiet privacy and receiving it dutifully.

Jessamine had allowed herself only that; the reprieve from duty aboard the ship. She did not cry. She didn't believe she could even if she allowed herself. Her shoulders simply grew tenser, winding herself tight like a string. She held her chin high as she grieved from a simple longing and remembrance spoken through the sorrow between her brows as she stared out the window towards the seas. She allowed the boat in all its creaking to mourn for her, with each groan and wail of the wood and iron of its making as it barreled back toward Dunwall.

No one called upon her for the rest of the journey.

The waters about the isle of Serkonos had been rough, and even after their path straightened for Dunwall, the skies were grey and it rained on the day they ported.

She had waited until they had taken away his body, before departing from her room.

The Royal Guard met her at the docks, along with Commander Dalen; Essen's acting officer left to lead her City Watch while he had traveled with her to Serkonos. Who now, was a temporary replacement. His expression was grim as he gave his condolences. She had simply waved him off, assuring him she expected him to fulfill his duties to the utmost ability in a time of tragedy.

They had taken her straight to the Tower, escorted deftly from the docks and the returned soldiers shuffling about the boats. She thought nothing of them or the quiet talking about her as she left, or of the Royal Guard arguing away the rest of the accompanying entourage.

Word was sent quickly to her advisers of Parliament at Dunwall Tower. And a session was called immediately for her return. Jessamine had walked into court and presented the grave news. Her mind automatically finding the words she had built during her quiet solace. There were no other words said except her own, and the airs of court were for once, stilled. The benefits of their new treaty and the strength of their Serkonon ally felt unbalanced with the weight of her Lord Protector's death.

The week of Parliament sessions was cancelled.

**…**

The speakers throughout Dunwall called for a length of silence for Essen's passing on the day of his procession.

Condolences were spoken to her throughout the tower. Servants in mid-curtsy, as she passed the halls, whispered their apologies and watched her leave with pitiful gazes. She ignored them for the most part, her acceptances growing more tired each day.  
The funeral was beautiful despite the overcast clouds haunting them from the sea. It was as if the dust of Serkonos was chasing her home, she mused.

The officers draped a flag upon the lacquered wood of his coffin. They wore they're ceremonial uniforms, and Commander Dalen placed Essen's sword upon it, wrapped in the deep teal and gold of the Kaldwin family.  
The High Overseer, Wesley, read a passage speaking of the righteous of the living and the memory of the fallen. She didn't hear a lot of it.

Jessamine whispered words of thanks to the carved stone adorning the grave. It wasn't the first time a Protector had died for his charge, she told herself. And to die in valiantly for his duty was not a vain or dishonorable death.

The city mourned for a week and a half. News of the Royal Protectors death brought pity and sorrow. He had been loved by his soldiers and the citizens. Essen had been an honorable man; soldier and fighter for his city in the war. And he had saved their precious Empress from the hands of Serkonos men.

But his death also brought about whispers and puzzled looks. Advisers began meeting to discuss the news. Officers overlooked their positions and everyone waited for more news.

Who would be Lord Protector now?

* * *

"It's in bad taste to do something so soon after..."

"Your Majesty it has been two weeks."

"That's not a lot of time."

"Perhaps." The adviser straightened, watching Jessamine's back as she faced the great window overlooking the Tower grounds. Cromwell was Secretary of her Parliament, her Privy Council. He was her official messenger and correspondent for her decrees and decisions, as well as the voice of the advisers council. "But the position is a great one. Not only for your safety, but for the command of your forces..." Cromwell tried again. When the Empress didn't interrupt he continued. "You must begin your choosing. It will take a few months to prepare the new appointed officer and it would not be announced for some time... But you must begin the process now."

Jessamine sighed, her finger reaching to trace the curtain in contemplation. She glanced at the strange reflection of Cromwell in his black suit, shifting on his feet in her office. She supposed they had left her alone for as long as they could. And for her advisers, two weeks was indeed long.

She knew he was right in any case. It didn't matter how close to her Essen had been. He had held a great title, one that needed to be replaced in order for the Kingdom to continue order. To leave the position empty was not just a hazard to her protection and the order of security at her Tower, but it was not proper for her people to go without a Lord Protector in their government, even in name.

There was only so much time for grief in her position. She had learned that from the death of her father.

But Jessamine could spot a box of political intrigue from miles away. And the selection of a new Royal Protector screamed of it.

The Privy Council was made up of eight men, including her Secretary. They were judges, senior politicians, men from the Academy and more importantly, all noble men within her court. They all had things to gain, positions being one of them. Money being the other. She trusted their opinions and their urgency for the factions they supported within her Kingdom, but she did not trust their acknowledgment of each other or the whole of her people.

Still, she would have to begin sifting through it all. She was Empress, after all.

"Has my Lord Protector left behind recommendations for his succession?"

He nearly sighed out loud in relief. He had almost expected a dismissal, but their dear Empress had always been sensible. A trait he was thankful for in times such as these. "Yes, Empress," He nodded, coming forward to place the small stack of papers upon her desk. "I'm afraid that some of them may not be as prepared as others though…" He trailed and looked up to the Regent with analytic eyes. "Ultimately, the decision is yours, Majesty. But your council has nominated candidates as well, they are there too."

Jessamine nodded, tearing her gaze away from the overcast sky and dreary city. She glanced at the new papers on her desk. So it was as she predicted. No doubt none of them wanted her choosing from whatever recommendations Essen had made. They had probably been through them all, already. "Thank you, Cromwell. I will go through them." She dismissed, turning away with false disinterest.

She waited until he was gone before swearing quietly.

She crossed the room quickly, sitting on her chair and reaching to splay the papers before her.

Small cameo portraits accompanied written dossiers of various men. Most of them were Corporals in the City Watch, and one she recognized as Essen's right hand Commander, Dalen. It was immediate what problems were apparent in his evaluations though. They were all great soldiers, high ranked, with awards and special honors.

But none of them were high enough in society. They were middle class, brought up to high stations in the military but not in lineage and hardly in wealth. Which she knew, was an unfortunate must. To hire any old guardsmen from any family would be scandalous. Not only because of the lack of class, but because it showed a degradation in her own station. Not to mention the instant disapproval from all the other houses. Jessamine's lips pursed, ignoring the issue for now.

Experience, of course, was also important. And quietly, she promised herself not to hire another of Essen's generation. She needed a Lord Protector fit for duty. One that was adaptable in a time where change was rapidly occurring in her Kingdom. Something the former Protector had had some trouble with.

Pushing away the top papers, she came to those nominated by her Privy Council, each page tabbed with their wax seals. Such support went only to Naval Officers, which they all were, of course. The Naval force was much more highly respected than the Watch was. Not unrightfully so, but perhaps a little unfairly. Especially since the Naval force gained much more financial and social support from those in the courts. It paid to endorse an Admiral and his fleet unlike a Commander and his guards.

Unfortunately, regardless of which faction she chose from, narrowing her specifications to young, adaptable, experienced and high stationed was very limiting. Not to mention, she had meet none but one.

And loyalty came with a certain amount of acquaintanceship.

A trait she realized, that was perhaps the most important of them all.

Surely they were all trained for devotion to their land... but to their Empress on a level for her safety?

A knock on her door paused her thoughts and she looked up. "Come in."

The door opened to expose one of the guards who had been keeping watch outside her door. "Reports for your Majesty."

She frowned and gestured him inside, his hands full of scrolled parchments, stacked up his chest. "Reports?"

"On Serkonos, Majesty. From Essen's faction."

Oh.

She paused at the idea, but nodded him towards her desk. She had no intention to reread the events at Karnaca, but there they would stay.

He crossed the floor quickly and at her motion to the spot in her desk, he began to try and set them all down at once. They cluttered out of his hands awkwardly, a few escaping to roll over her dossiers and papers. One fell to the floor.

The guardsmen tried to straighten them in embarrassment, trying to stack them on top of each other in vain. Jessamine frowned heavily, her own hands reaching across the mahogany to snatch a stray scroll. "Leave them." She demanded, saving the poor man from further embarrassment by offering him a dismissal.

The officer's eyes flickered to her and back to the mess, glancing at the one that had fallen to the floor.

"That will be all, watchmen." She tried again. He saluted hurriedly, bowing for good measure over his blunder and hurried out the door.

Jessamine watched the door close, tapping her chin with the paper scroll she had caught. Her eyes strayed back to the cameos of all the Naval and Watch officers of different ranks, their quaint little drawings looking back at her stiffly. She placed the scroll idly down, rolling it along the desk beneath her fingers as she read.

Living with an angry court and choosing from her City Watch was something she did not want to do. But the position was not one she was willing to grant to her councilors benefit. She sighed tiredly. Cromwell and the others would just have to wait. There was no way she could narrow her mind by reading through pages of titles and badges.

When it had come time to appoint her Protector years ago when her father had died, she had done so easily. Essen had always been there. There had been no need for interviews or preparations; the man was practically Royal Protector already. And none had questioned his rank or duty, or even his stations. Then again, he had been a Naval Commander, she reminded herself.

And now this? Her fingers twiddled the scrolls on her desk. She stared at it listlessly as she contemplated putting together an evaluation for those applicable for the job.

The scroll rolled a little too far from her fingers, and the lettering above its seal peered out at her.

_Corvo Attano._

Jessamine's mind blanked.

A vision of the Serkonos man rushed back to her, his worn and hard face strangely soft as he awaited her orders. Puzzled, she racked her mind at the last time she had seen him. The ship? Perhaps the docks? It had been a haze when they had ported and she could recall having her Royal Guard escorting her away, but not Corvo following about her like a shadow. He must have stayed with the others; the soldiers that he had been positioned with at Serkonos.

Her eyes stared at the name in confusion before flickering to the other rolled parchments on her desk, lying about innocently. Her eyes widened in realization. He must have, for these were the reports from all those soldiers of the actions in Serkonos.

And so… Corvo, too, had written a report.

Jessamine snatched up the paper, crinkling it in her haste. The City Watch seal popped off easily and she unrolled it a bit gentler than her finger's wanted to in their eagerness. She pushed the curl of the paper flat on the mahogany and sure enough, a hand written report stared back at her and her eyes skimmed it greedily.

Corvo's handwriting was shaky with the quill. Not illegible, but obviously the characters were difficult for him to shape. The shakiness of the ink seemed to reflect the quickness in his hands, as if written in haste, or perhaps in frustration. It seemed disappointingly short – nowhere near the length of others had she seen in her rulings. It was also littered with stricken words as if edited by another.

The Captain, no doubt. His fancy cursive hovered above Corvo's crossed out scrawling. It was almost sort of comical, like a tutor fixing a student's error filled scripts.

She began reading slowly, even as her mind longed to whirl through the entire text. Perhaps she would have felt less inclined to read such a thing had her charge not been... addled as he was. She was admittedly curious to hear the words of one who had not spoken to her at all. Especially during the events he had practically carried her through.

For while she had been there herself, the entire goings on had still stirred in her mind like a surreal dream. And since they had arrived at home, she had pushed it from her mind.

Forcibly slowly, she read:

_Corvo Attano_  
_Assassin Hand_

The first correction lay here. 'Assassin Hand' was stricken. It was replaced with the words, 'City Guard.' Jessamine frowned at the change. It was a true enough error. He was not what he was assigned in the treaty. But had they not told Corvo that? Or did he not accept such a reassignment?

_I killed 3 Gallows men the night before the meeting on the compound. I knew they're failure meant they would attack again. I left my post when I learned there was to be a gathering of people not a private meeting. It meant they could come during the day where she was exposed in a crowd. They entered from the roof of the palace where no guards were posted. There were 16 of them. I killed three on the way towards music room to find the Empress. The tattoos on their faces meant they were from Cullero, not Karnaca. They are **in esili.** Pirates. I took the Empress from his Lordship and used his safe passage in the music room to take her to the stables. I killed a fourth by the gates. We went through the city with another three chasing us. I tried to lose them through the crowd and when it grew too heavy to run I took the Empress to a safe house. **Postribolo**. They give runaway women **rifugio.**_

Another set of strike outs. She could make out the strange Serkonan words Corvo had written, probably to substitute words he didn't know how to say in their language, but the Captain's replacements were 'exiled,' 'whorehouse' and 'sanctuary.'

_I killed a fifth in there. I believe he found us by seeing us from the streets and following so I switched clothing to not be spotted as a Gristol guard. I gave the Empress a cover to hide her face. She does not look Serkonan._

_The safe houses in Serkonos lead to the sewers a safer place to run. Cullero men would not know Karnaca sewers. We walked to the end of the city and came up to a trader I know by name. I lied to him that the Empress was my wife and I needed passage to the coast and paid him to take us. The Empress was not physically hurt during our escape._

_I killed five men. Bodies will not be found. Gallows men carry their dead back with them._

Jessamine let her fingers trail over the last words. So he had known. Not only had he known that they would come, he had known what for. Pirates... no doubt upset that she had come to stop their business and legally ratify certain trade. They would lose much money, bounty and sea turf.

And of course, they would want to kill her only. Stir war between two nations and frame Rossini? A predictable if feeble plan. Although, she supposed it would have worked smoothly had Essen and Corvo not been there.

The information wasn't exactly the closure she wanted. But it was nice to understand what Essen had been protecting her from.

She traced the page again and again, short as it was, remembering all the details. The small things weren't mentioned. Not Corvo showing her his cut tongue to explain he couldn't speak. Not the attempt to write letters on her hand, or his breathy laugh at her catching an eyeful of brothel patrons. Nor did he mention her falling asleep near the end of their journey.

She didn't expect him to. But she remembered once more that she had yet to thank him despite saving her life more than once that day. Perhaps a bit more than her dear Protector had. She frowned at the thought, but it was true. Besides, Lord Rossini had gifted her Corvo and she had placed him in the Watch with mistrust. Now that she had confidence in the Lord, and even more in Corvo, she could do her best to reward him. Even if it wasn't to appoint him as her Assassin Hand…

She had not even spoken a goodbye to him, or seen to his station upon arrival at Dunwall. With a stab of worry, she wondered if they shipped him back to Serkonos.

She rolled the report back together neatly, placing it in the drawer at her desk side. It wouldn't mean anything to read any others. Corvo's had been the only one she needed.

Jessamine decided that her Privy Council would wait.

She had to see to Corvo.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

**Pleasantries**

"The barracks, Empress? Whatever for?"

Jessamine ignored Cromwell's upset expression as she adjusted the laced front of her coat. The two long tails of the coat brushed against her boots as she crossed the room to Clara, who handed her a few parchments. They were sealed brilliantly with her crest and she placed them carefully inside her coat.

"Your Majesty?" Cromwell tried again.

"I wish to speak with some of the Captains there." She explained and gestured toward him. "Talk with me on my way to my horse if you must." She subtly dismissed, leaving her office in the company of her matron. The guards at the door hastily opened the door for her.

"You're riding to the barracks?" Cromwell exclaimed, his gangly form jumping in aghast. He hurried after her and her house lady, trying to calm the situation. Cromwell's hand gestured wildly as he found a place beside her, imploring her gaze despite it looking straight forward. "It-It's fantastic that Your Majesty is eager to find a new candidate for Lord Protector, but I assure you, Empress, I can summon those you wish to speak to here at the Tower."

"This isn't about the Royal Protector, Secretary." She corrected. They exited towards the main foyer and began down the stairs, the red velvet contrasting brightly against the dark teal accents of her riding jacket. "This is a personal matter I would see to in person."

Cromwell scowled at the ceiling momentarily. His politician's expression showed its disapproval and judgment. Jessamine could imagine it even as she ignored it. "With all due respect Empress, the barracks are not fit for... such high visitations."

"They are my barracks are they not?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then I expect them to be fit for such visitations." She ended turning to her Secretary with scrutiny. "With all your respects paid, Cromwell." She finished. There was no more room for argument in her clipped tone and Cromwell's sharp shoulders visibly deflated.

Her doorman awaited her at the front of the palace, as well as a few familiar guardsmen who would ride with her for protection and direction to the barracks. Cromwell paused on the last step, knowing he had lost and watched her adorn her riding gloves and hat. The Regent Kaldwin would do as she pleased, and he could only hope she would find herself on track for her duties sooner rather than later.

"Very well, Your Majesty." He complied with a bow. "Shall I send forth someone to announce your arrival then?"

Jessamine looked down to the entourage of horses awaiting her and her men for their short trip to the barracks. It was nice weather, and she imagined the horse ride would be enjoyable enough to calm her nerves. "I have already sent word to one of the Captains." She said, much to Cromwell's dismay. No doubt he wished would rather she parade down the streets with the entire City Watch surrounding her.

But this was a discreet matter, one that she wished to remain private. She was nervous enough as it was, despite her station and her authority, which was rare.

She said her goodbyes to her matron, telling her to expect her return at a later hour.

Though... she imagined the conversation would last much shorter than that.

* * *

Captain Morris straightened his uniform as best he could with one arm in a sling and a shattered collarbone.

He strode around his desk to look in the vanity for the last time during the pacing of his office. He had been burning a trail in the wood flooring with his constant trek of nerves. Morris regarded his strewn expression before turning his shoulder a bit in its sling. He could feel the bandages high on his chest slip from beneath his arms, and his free hand tried to catch them through the layers of his coat and shift them more comfortably. The damn things could never stay in place beneath the shifting uniform.

He ended up just looking foolish when his lieutenant barged in. "Captain! H-Her Majesty!"

"Yes, yes, open the door!" He urged, straightening his uniform again as he heard the storm of footsteps coming towards his office.

Why the Empress wished to speak with him, he had no idea. Most likely it was about Serkonos. He only hoped that he wasn't about to get fired for being responsible for the outside security. Or whatever it was Corvo fucked up when he disappeared. He had read and edited the reports. It was a nightmare; an insult to the Gristol reputation. An unauthorized Serkonan assassin the only one to escort Her Majesty out - and he had taken her through the public, a whorehouse, and the sewers.

That in itself was enough to get him disbanded. But what happened with Nicolai Essen...

Morris swallowed as two guards filed in, Royal guards, by the look of their much more decorated bright uniforms and the gold shoulder boards. They were followed by a short figured woman in riding regalia, the suddenness of her entrance straightening his posture immediately. Her hair was done up with a pin, clean and crisp under a short riding fedora. It was a strike of color in the earthy toned office, the Kaldwin teal of her jacket cutting her figure out of the soldiers behind her.

Her Majesty's eyes found him immediately and he was struck with the realization that this was the closest he had ever been to her before. Sure he had been a part of security detail for her carriage in Serkonos and had seen her en route to places. But suddenly here she was in his office, staring right at him. He knew her face without truly seeing it, from the portraits on the papers and the coins. And yet now it seemed to render them false, because no drawings or engravings could quite capture the sharpness of her cheeks bones and chin, or the delicate curve of her brows. He had always known that the Empress was beautiful. Everyone knew that. But again... here she was.

She looked richer than anything in his office, including the Tvyian brandy from Alexin on his desk, a fact he was suddenly self-conscious about.

Morris saluted with his good hand fisted on his chest and bowed low. "Your Majesty."

"Captain Morris?" She assumed, stepping into the office and pinning him to his spot with her look.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"You were the one posted in Serkonos with the rest of my men and... my Royal Protector?"

And so it started. Morris stood straight, but couldn't get his eyes off the floor. "Yes Majesty. My sincerest condolences."

"Thank you." She said quickly. Automatically. There was a pause before she began again. "I understand that you have a Serkonan guardsman by the name of Attano beneath you. He is in your section is he not?"

Shit. "Yes Majesty. He is in my troop." He said and thought to remind her. "He was appointed to me from the treaty of-"

"Yes I know." She interrupted. Her nod was abrupt, but not angry. She smiled very slightly and Morris felt himself relax under the expression. "I'd like to speak with him."

He relaxed too soon. "Majesty?" He questioned without thinking. When she continued to stare at him in expectancy he babbled. "I-he-Corvo is not a fully realized watch men. As his Captain I must apologize for any actions he may have done to offend you, Empress. I take full responsibility for his misconduct."

Jessamine frowned at him. "Misconduct?" She clipped and Morris nearly winced. "He saved my life, Captain."

"Yes and I apologi-" He stopped as her words reached his mind. "I mean, yes of course he did. He... did his duty. Majesty." He trailed, fixing his blunder.

Jessamine continued to stare at him as an awkward silence passed. Had he missed something? Perhaps a message had been received that he had not seen about the context of her visit. Was she looking to speak fire Corvo first? Or… what if she was going to ask Corvo about his misconduct?

Jessamine glanced at her hands, before gazing at him intently and clearing her throat pointedly. Morris jumped, aware of inaction and motioned out of his office. "Oh I- he should be in the east housing-I'll bring him-"

"No need, I'll accompany you."

There was another awkward pause and Morris stared at the Empress even as her personal guards looked at each other in puzzlement behind her. But Jessamine took charge, addressing her men without turning to them. "I wish to accompany the Captain to the halls privately. You will await my return and departure."

If they looked opposing to the order, none of the soldiers said so as she briskly left the office.

Morris escorted Her Majesty across the compound, their pace steady despite his nervousness. She walked with just as much control and authority as some Commander's he had marched with, but she did so with grace and femininity. She kept her hands clasped before her and her riding boots one in front of the other. He glanced at her often, but the Empress seemed preoccupied with looking about the barracks, watching some of the men train and patrol. Her angular face seemed genuinely interested, though she didn't ask him any questions. He only hoped the interest was a good thing, and not one of scrutiny.

They were heading for the smaller encampments. And could only hope that Corvo was where he was supposed to be for once.

"Your arm, were you injured in Serkonos, Captain?" She questioned.

"Ah, yes. One of the assassins shattered my collarbone with his blade." He answered. Jessamine nodded in understanding. "They patched me aboard the ship with the other casualties. It's a rough recovery but, I could have died otherwise."

"Then I thank you for your services to your Empress, Captain Morris." She gave politely. Morris gave a mumbled and out of place thanks in the face of her pleasantries, before falling silent in his inept skills at court talk.

They neared a small concrete building, much less styled like the office had been. There were no Dunwall banners or reliefs along its roof. It served its purpose as a Mess Hall. Morris considered how ill-fitting it was for her presence, but there would be no denying her.

The Captain opened the door for her, and she took in the sight of a few City Watch guards in and out of uniform, occupying themselves with their meals. Morris shifted uncomfortably before holding out his hands to stall her trek inside. "I know your Majesty wishes for casualties... but at least let me clear the room for you to speak in private."

Jessamine nodded at him after a moment. And he imagined that if her straight regal face could allow for nervousness, it would now. She looked a bit unsure of herself, but folded her hands before her like a true lady and averted her eyes to await a proper presentation.

He made his way towards the busy table with about six or so of his men. "Clear Out!" He shouted, catching their attention all at once. "A matter of urgency has come up. Return to your duties or your beds." A flicker of eyes no doubt went to the form of the Empress by the other entrance behind him. Thankfully, Jessamine's riding hat hid most of her face from their view, but Morris could only hope they thought her just a noble. "Exits that way, soldiers." He specified, pointing to the opposite door of the Empress. They stood up noisily, grumbling at the intrusion but not making any public complaints. He could already hear them begin to gossip like court ladies.

Scanning the room quickly as they all stood, his eyes searched through the heads and uniforms for Corvo. He worried that he wasn't here at all and that he may have to go search for the blasted Serk, but he spotting the long dirty hair heading out the door.

He cursed, pushing through the men. "Not you Corvo!" he called.

The Serkonan stopped to turn towards him as the other soldiers glanced around too. Confused faces and sharp whispers broke out and the men moved for Corvo to head to the captain. The mute's expression was hardly ever changing, but he could garner the slight irritation Corvo had for being singled out. No doubt the poor assassin thought he was in trouble again. Not a faraway possibility, Morris noted.

The Captain waited until the soldiers trailed out, not even looking at Corvo until the last man left and the door shut. His head snapped to the assassin, leaning towards him insistently. "Straighten up!" He hushed in an angry whisper before glancing behind his shoulder at the feminine form behind him, politely looking about the room and not at them. "The Empress is here to see you!"

Corvo's head jerked up at the words. His dark eyes ignored Morris completely to stare at the expensively clothed woman with furrowed brows. The Serkonan moved to pass his Captain hurriedly and head straight across the room, but Morris grabbed at his arm in horror. "Fix yourself you fool! Button your coat!" Morris chided, his expression angry as he looked Corvo over. The man was still as dirty has he had been in Serkonos. His long matted hair was about his face like a vagabond, his shirt un-tucked. Even his sleeve cuffs were loose. He didn't need their reputation ruined any more than it was. "It's the Empress for God's sake!"

Corvo glanced once more at the awaiting woman and looked as if he would ignore the instruction, but to Morris's relief, he turned away to hurriedly button his jacket and sleeves. He wiped at his mouth with the corner of his cuffs hastily, before considering his hair, which a hand tried to sweep backward on his skull. Morris sighed as it all fell back in his face fruitlessly. "Please Corvo, don't be the stubborn fuck with her that you are with me." Morris whispered and they both turned back to make their way towards her Majesty.

The Captain smiled towards her, even though her gaze was directly on Corvo. Despite her small frame and delicate face, she was the most intimidating person he had encountered. Even before he had ever met her like this, her speeches, announcements and parliament sessions had always been dictated with her clear and precise voice. It was a sweet tone, but it cut like the ice of Pandyssia. Much like her eyes were doing to the both of them. "Empress, I present city guardsman, Corvo Attano." He announced with fake optimism and ignored Corvo's subtle glare towards him at the title.

"Yes Captain, we've met." She acknowledged, glancing at Morris a bit dismissively. She turned her attention back on Corvo, but continued. "If you would be so kind as to stay and translate as needed?"

Morris gave his agreement with a silent salute, successfully shot down to place with that sharp gaze from Majesty.

He looked the same. She didn't know why she expected any different. Corvo still looked like he had washed up on the wet coasts of his native land and then dried by its beating sun, letting the sand and water seep into his skin and hair. He was rough and worn despite his young features. His expression was changed though, no longer the alert and urgent authority of a bodyguard. His stance; (if looming and hunched) was steady and unyielding like before, but his dark eyes were soft and calmer. And the tenseness in his brows alluded to apprehension.

She herself felt better than she had on their last meeting. She was better dressed, and not in a life threatening panic. She tried to forget that he had seen her at her most vulnerable. Not as an Empress detailing orders and creating a face to represent a kingdom... but a woman who quelled in fear as men sought her blood.

Despite how uneasy his stare was, it still pierced through her like none other. It was impolite; her mind told her at first. But Corvo obviously did not know the unspoken laws of staring and socialites such as not meeting the eyes of those in higher station. It was innocent, and naive, the way he pinned her with his gaze. Like an equal.

She averted her gaze first in embarrassment, the intensity a bit too much for her to match.

"Forgive me, Sir Attano, for surprising you on your duty like this." Jessamine began, her hands clasped before her, stance tall and head bowed as she spoke to him. "I wanted to take responsibility to thank you for your actions in Serkonos. Not only for my personal safety, but on behalf of the city of Dunwall, my lineage, and all of Gristol."

She took the chance to gaze back at him. His expression remained indifferent, so she continued, taking a few steps forward toward his side. Unlike his gaze, his stance did not budge to follow her. She tested it, moving as she spoke. "I can rightfully say that I have never been in such strenuous circumstances before. And I fear what would have become of me and the Kingdom had you not been there."

Corvo shifted on his feet but did not move from his attention stance. His dark shaded pupils looked at her from the corner of his eyes. She held the stare this time, turning towards him once more. He had made no move or interruption, only giving her his full consideration. A perfect soldier… aside from the staring.

When it seemed she had spoken the words she wished to, he finally turned toward her. His lips twitched, a brow furrowing in puzzlement at her antics. The genuine expression of confusion breaking along his face made her suddenly long for privacy. Where she might reach to touch his shoulder and express to him that he had not just saved an Empress' life. But her own.

Corvo's gaze traced the distant expression on her face and Jessamine flushed fully when his eyes suddenly dropped to the floor and he analyzed her from head to toe, quite obviously. She hid her face behind the tip of her hat, looking at the ground to regain her complexion.

No, he very much did not understand the manners of court.

The scrutiny seemed to undo her a bit, the silent actions and subtle exchanges between them not like anything she'd experienced before.

She gave a nervous laugh she hoped Morris didn't hear and her voice slipped from its authority of its own accord. "You must forgive me again. I find myself at a humble disadvantage in your presence as I do not speak so eloquently with my hands as you do." She explained, sounding much more charming than she felt and trying to bring back a sense of casual formality. A distraction.

Corvo's hands lifted immediately. Startled by the sudden spring of action she looked up again, watching intently. His fingers weaved together and apart, motioning to her and then to himself at one point. Knowing she would not understand, she only glanced at his motions briefly before choosing to stare at his gaze instead. His eyes were so dark; she had to judge his expressions by the soft movement of his facial movements. His cheeks pulled in as she did so, and he stared back at her with no apprehension as his hands slowed.

They were still holding each other's gaze when the silence crept between them, Jessamine blinked away, confusedly gathering that she had no idea what he said.

Jessamine and Corvo turned to look at Morris, who had been staring rather ardently at Jessamine in wonder. When their gazes all found each other, Morris jumped in surprise. "Oh- I apologize I- he said ah-"

The Captain turned to see that Corvo had already finished 'speaking' and he had caught none of it. Corvo's dark eyes narrowed at the man, repeating the motion of his hands, this time without the gentle flair from before. "He ah... says it is his disadvantage, as he cannot say thank you out loud."

Her open-mouthed smile was hard to repress, though she tried. She raised her hand to her mouth in a loose fist, as if to wipe the smile from her lips. Corvo bore down the sight with intent eyes.

"Perhaps then, you can show me what it is to say thank you?" She inquired her brow quirking in honest curiosity. She kept her smile tight lipped and quaint. Her hands rose before her, showing him her intent to learn whatever gesture he would show her.

Corvo hesitated, his hands jerking at his sides at the appeal. He seemed to think hard on the idea of showing her the signage and for a moment Jessamine thought perhaps she had offended him. She readied the words to recede her silly request and apologize when suddenly his hand rose to touch his mouth, his fingers flat as they pressed against his lips. He kept his eyes on the Empress, his deliberate motion an obvious demonstration and his gaze something different. Then his hand dropped forward toward her, as if presenting her with the unintentional kiss he had laid on his hand.

He was rewarded with another smile from the Empress; her cheeks coloring as she gently averted her eyes at the strangely intimate motion. Corvo's fists clenched at his sides as he stared at her demure face, hidden by the riding fedora.

The Empress' hands wrung together and she wondered if it would be inappropriate now to return the gesture.

"He said thank you."

Corvo turned to once again glare at the man harshly as Jessamine's spell was broken. She nodded at Morris who was looking a bit confused and lost. "Yes I comprehended that one, Captain."

Jessamine seemed to become more aware of herself and she straightened, shaking away the inklings of the gentile nature Corvo had just witnessed. "I must admit that mere pleasantries were not all that brought me here." She announced, her authority coming back as her gaze landed on Captain Morris. "Corvo Attano is to be transferred to Dunwall Tower as soon as he is able."

The news was shocking to both men. And while Corvo suddenly began addressing the matter immediately with his hands - Morris had his own questions. "Y-Your Majesty? Dunwall Tower?"

Jessamine's delicate brow rose as looked toward Corvo's hands with interest. "I would hear his words Captain." she demanded.

"But-He's-" Morris scrambled between duty and concern before catching her straight and demanding expression. He whipped his head to Corvo and balked at Corvo's motions. "He... he asks if he will be assigned your Assassin Hand?"

Jessamine frowned prettily. Apparently Corvo Attano also had no notion of what were proper and improper questions, especially in the company of others. She supposed his hindrance left him no choice, but she would rather not speak of such important things in front of Morris. (Who was of course staring unabashedly at her for the answer.) She had no intention of taking on an assassin, but even if she openly denied it- Morris would only believe the answer a proper one. And if she ignored it with her own words, it would look like a yes. Damn the controversy of such things. Instead Jessamine looked offended and flicked her eyes and chin at Morris. "Captain." She whispered harshly.

Morris, bless his half-noble heart, did his gentlemanly duty. "Y-You can't ask the Empress such improper things!" He chided Corvo in a whisper he made no hard attempt to go unheard. Corvo, bless his Gallows heart, looking irately confused.

"I intend for Mr. Attano to become a royal guard. I would have him patrol my Tower, not the streets, as a promoted First Officer." She said looking toward the Serkonan. "If you will take the position?" She asked. It was not an actual question. She and Morris knew that.

Corvo apparently did too. He made no sign, besides a curt nod.

Jessamine smiled tightly, pleased. She would take her leave and she nodded to them with intention as such. Her hands unclasped to bid the Captain a farewell, when a calloused hand reached forward and snatched her fingers. Jessamine jumped with a short gasp, her eyes widening as Corvo took hold of her hand, his fingers curling against hers. His eyes didn't meet hers as he dipped forward, his lips pressing gently on the very ends of her fingers as opposed to her knuckles or the back of her hand. His lips were rough, and she could feel a few soft pricks from his unshaven face.

They had been close before, of course. He had held her, carried her, and guided her hands the entire time they had been running in Karnaca. She had even, ashamedly, fallen asleep at his immediate side. But that had been so different. Different in manner and in circumstance. Here, even in the privacy of the empty barracks and not but Morris to witness them, it was scandalous.

Not that kissing hands was improper but... to take hers like that and without a glove on... it was a bit indecent.

Corvo straightened as he let go, his eyes flickering to hers. Intense as always, and completely unaware he had made any faux pas.

Jessamine cleared her throat, her face aflame. "Thank you kindly..." She murmured beneath her lips, as was proper acceptance had the action truly been planned.

Morris, for his part, looked aghast and furious at the same time. And Jessamine hurried to cut him off before he burst into outlandish scolding of Corvo or groveling apologies to her. "See to it Mr. Attano is well treated and well prepared for his immediate promotion and re-location, Captain."

"I-ah-of course."

"I shall take my leave Officers." She nodded. Morris bowed. Corvo did as well, but his right hand signed as he did so. Two fingers pressed upon his chest as if sizing his heart before motioning it to his pocket. Naturally, she didn't understand, but nodded anyway and left quickly.

She needed to collect her thoughts as far away from the barracks as she could get.

* * *

"Commander Dalen has the highest-"

"Majesty, he has Morley parentage."

Jessamine's lips pursed together, her hand clenching against the curved wood of her chair arm.

Secretary Cromwell rubbed his thin fingers along his brow; his back slacked against his own leather chair to her direct right. The advisor to her direct left coughed quietly into his hand, and the other six at the long oak table stared anywhere but at the Empress.

The council meeting was not going well.

It was the third deliberation on the same topic; the candidates for the Royal Protector. The entire first and second meeting had seemed like a race for all the advisors at her table to throw in their nominations, trying to get the names (for whatever man would support their needs most, she wagered) into the running. Jessamine was overwhelmed, and whilst she was known for always being level headed, these meetings were beginning to grate down onto her nerves. And by the looks of all her advisors at the table, they noticed.

Cromwell was her Secretary, and while he was a good one when it came to negotiating the advisors wants and opinions with her demands, he had his own agenda. He was forceful and particularly anal on appearances being kept clean and well... wealthy. To a point, Jessamine understood his ways. Keeping her court happy usually meant less headache and dilemmas in the future. But this often led to an inconvenience she would have to tolerate, or the good people of Dunwall bearing more brunt from the higher ups in better places.

Currently, it was the former.

"Dalen was born in Gristol regardless of where his parents were born. He's been through the City Watch, he's earned his keep." Jessamine began again, ignoring the looks tossed around the room and Crowley's lips moving silently to try and cut in. "He's a Commander. Essen's first and right hand man!" She shook her head, tapping at the papers in front of her on the table. "He's the temporary Chief Officer of my forces - he's practically running the position of Royal Protector already!"

"Majesty, please - it doesn't matter how experienced he is. With his background the others will get restless. The blood between Morley and the Empire is still fresh in everyone's minds." He said, jumping in at the chance once she paused.

"What better tactics than to show my faith towards Morley. They will be pleased with the honor and we can all begin showing new faces to each other." She sighed.

One of the advisors near the end of the table spoke up, his hand raising his quill in polite interruption. "If I may your Majesty?" At her nod he continued, his hands gesturing outward towards the other as if to convince them his coming argument. "The Royal Protector must be well practiced in court. In station he must know to show face with Parliament and the houses... military experience alone..." He trailed.

Cromwell began nodding along. "Dalen may be a Commander worthy of protecting and enforcing, Empress, but he knows nothing of relations. And his current military station though high, leaves his court station... lacking." Cromwell's brows suddenly lifted, leaning in towards her more. "Now... someone of say, Toddlin's rank and station, would be most agreeable."

Jessamine looked around the session, seeing the unease on the other's faces as the glanced away from her shamefully. They seemed all in agreement then. It wasn't the first time she had heard the name. They had been pushing her to consider Naval Captain Toddlin for some time. She knew the name well enough. His house was a prominent one in society, and if memory served, they had a lot of money welling in the pockets at court.

But Toddlin was a Naval Captain; high ranking at sea with no ground expertise. No evidence that he understood the ins and outs of commanding her forces within her Tower and the city. Not to mention... "I do not know Toddlin, Secretary, I've said this before. Do not have me repeat it."

Cromwell visibly deflated in frustration. She could hear the silent groan travel down the table as she ignored them, leafing through the papers containing all their nominees. She had refused immediately anyone she had not met herself. It was a stubborn limitation, even Jessamine knew it... but the former Lord Protector had been close to her. It was a position that required the employed to be very personal with her. Perhaps not immensely so if she did not wish it, but more so than her Secretary was. As much as her Matron. Essen had been close simply because he had been nearly family. But his duty had him required to meet and speak with her on a daily basis.

She could not give away the job so easily knowing that this was to be someone she had to trust fully. Someone she had no choice but to depend on, and someone she could hopefully find reprieve in.

Cromwell leaned forward, his fingers threading beneath his chin. An imploring gesture she had seen before on him and loathed to see now. "Empress, please." He began and she sighed. "We all understand your particular standards but... if you continue to limit our choices this way then you may regret it should you come to know those you rebuffed later."

Jessamine's shoulder's straightened as she looked at her Secretary. He was right in this. She knew it was stubborn, but the entire process was hitting to close to her grief and the need to be selfish was swallowing her under it.

"Allow yourself to meet each candidate." He suggested, looking around the table for support. "We can arrange private meetings with them all for your evaluation and judgment."

Jessamine looked away in dismissal, her hand waving curtly. "I will not have men putting on faces for a position that all desperately seek. This will not be a show, Cromwell." She chided. She wanted to keep her search for the new Protector as quiet as possible.

Cromwell stuttered to continue quickly, fearing he was losing his influence. "W-We'll make it public!" He announced, forcing a smile. "We can have a public gathering. A celebration to disguise your chance to meet the nominees."

"It would give her Majesty a chance to see their standing in the court!" An advisor piped up, murmurs of agreement sprouting like weeds.

"A court party with military invited?" Jessamine asked the table with obvious doubts. "How is this not obvious to my true intention?"

"Airs will be put on of course-" Cromwell rushed. "We will announce it your thankfulness for your men after Serkonos. Everyone knows of how close it all came... and with... the passing of the Royal Protector..."

Jessamine nodded quickly for him to go silent. Her hand lifted to press on her mouth as she considered the idea. No doubt everyone would have their guesses at what a party would mean... but it still wasn't a bad idea. She could see how all the officers reacted to court and public settings. And she was getting frustrated enough trying to judge them on their papers, cameos, and the few times she had shaken their hands during some irrelevant routine.

The only shame was how much she hated parties.

Her eyes lifted, meeting the eight pairs of eyes all looking at her beseechingly.

She rose from her chair with a sudden grace and there was a loud clutter as the men at the table all rushed to stand at her honor, chairs scraping and quills clattering to the wood floors. She waited as they bowed their heads, awaiting her words or her departure.

"Secretary Cromwell." She announced, looking toward him once more. This time, his eyes were on the table. "Arrange a court soiree in honor of my highest ranking military and naval men. I wish to give my generosity for those who give so much to keep me and my people safe." She decreed.

Cromwell nodded and there was a silent sigh of relief throughout the room.

"This council is dismissed." She called. A servant rushed forward to pull her chair further out and another opened the doors for her. Jessamine took one last look at the bowing men, before turning on her heel and exiting.

It felt like each step closer to a new Lord Protector was another two steps backward.

And now there would be a great party in celebration of that fact.

* * *

_Note: 'Thank You' is one of my favorite gestures in sign language. It's so simple and sweet!_


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

**Promoted**

Commander Dalen didn't have time for these kinds of things lately.

The Lord Protector's death had hit him hard. Nicolai Essen had been his General and then Commander during the Morley Insurrection. They had fought on Gristol soil, and then one more midst the Navy near the end of it all. He had been more than an upstanding leader in battle. He had been a strategist, a true battle tactician, and a good man. And he had been like that throughout his duty as Lord Protector as well. He had trusted his men to follow his orders and do their duty and they had.

And now Dalen seemed to have more of it, as the current stand in for the job.

It wasn't as hectic as life had been during the war. This was a subtler job. But that didn't make it any less taxing. The Royal Guard at Dunwall Tower was set on a strict regime that was easy to maintain. Patrols were set in stone, and posts had been established years ago. What he hadn't expected, was the political side to things.

As Essen's right hand man, he had only organized patrols and kept his men's training up. He had worked within the confines of his soldiers. He had never even imagined the sorts of things Essen must have directed himself. The stress riding on him with decisions such as; whether or not to allow outside cooks send in pre-prepared meals for the Empress, or if a certain Senator had permission to seek council with Her Majesty before 9am, or if boats were allowed to dock in the rear of the tower as opposed to the front... was surprisingly excruciating.

Or for example...

What to do with a mute Serkonan ex-Gallows' assassin?

Commander Dalen's matured and hard expression frowned only slightly, the emotion looking more like frustration than confusion. If there was one thing he could say about their beloved Empress, was that she was never routine.

Jessamine Kaldwin was an active monarch. He didn't know much about others for comparison, really. Nor did he know the routines of her late father. But he did know that her schedule changed constantly. She oversaw everything, not just her Privy Council and her private chambers. She rode often, checked into every advisor's department, read the summaries of almost all the court proceedings, held her announcements and audiences on short notice, and almost always added or changed something on the daily agenda.

He admired her of course, but her tenacity sometimes threw him and the Guard for a loop. Essen had ignored it during his position. He had given the Empress a long threshold for privacy and her political activities. While Dalen had the impression that a Lord Protector was responsible for being at the Regent's side at all times, he wasn't surprised to find that wasn't quite possible with Lady Kaldwin. Nor did it seem really necessary or wanted.

And there were also times like these where he really couldn't get into her head.

He stopped then, in his march down the grand stairs of the Tower as they reached the ornate tiled flooring. The guards stationed there saluted him and he curtly waved them off to their duty. "Now, as I said before. The main entrance has its own posts. And each post is changed per week as is each patrol. Assignments of them go on the roster by the end of the weekday and it's each soldier's responsibility to make sure they are where they are expected to be." He directed.

Dalen turned his hard gaze behind him at the long haired Serkonan looking about the main entrance with scrutiny. He had spent the last hour or more touring their new recruit about the Tower. It had been... interesting. And quiet.

"Understood guardsmen?" He urged, his patience wearing thin. There were other things he needed to attend to; other duties than touring around a Serkonan. But this was an order directly from the Empress and therefore top priority. And he had to have the best face for her Majesty… what with the current state of things and the obvious position he now stood the chance of having permanently. Every matter was important, especially orders from her.

The Serk turned, looking at him flatly. Dalen glared. The soldier didn't seem to know his place. Or rather, maybe he did. Her Majesty had, after all, promoted him to First Officer. He had been a regular guardsmen (granted he had saved her life; Dalen had read the report, but still) and suddenly he had jumped four rankings up to First Officer. A position that meant he would be in charge of his own squad of patrolmen within the Tower. It was... unbelievable at first, but he had the document in his jacket with the Empress' flourishing signature and seal to prove it.

"Am I understood?" He urged again. Corvo Attano nodded stiffly, his eyes that should have been lowered in respect of rank meeting Dalen's gaze quite intensely.

There was no movement of hands. No, they established at the beginning that Dalen could not sign. He had learned in training, but that had been years ago, even before the war. He had long since forgotten the otherwise useless talent.

"Good. Now, we'll see to your sleeping arrangements back in the guards housing out at the Waterlock." He turned without considering the man, and continued onward.

The addled speech was more than a problem. As a First Officer he would be expected to lead a group of men. He would have to determine their posts for each week and report back to Dalen himself. How would the man do so without a word? What sort of silence inspired action in others?

Now... there was no real reason to give him a squad. They weren't prepared for such reorganization anyway, Dalen assured himself. And he could presume that there simply weren't any men to be found for a new squad. No need to pull or promote new troops with their patrols already full of working men. They wouldn't have space. There simply wasn't a need for another First Officer. The explanations seemed to roll out easily and they sounded acceptable enough to him for a report to the Empress.

The walk to the guard holdings was of course, quiet. And while they entered, Dalen heavily considered where exactly to put the Serkonan within the dormitories. In any other case - a First Officer would be grouped with the others, in the second level chambers. But considering his new reconsideration of the situation, it may be best to bunk him as a regular guardsmen. It would avoid any conflict later should the Serkonan think himself above station.

They continued down to the lower levels, Dalen waving off the guards milling there as he walked, leading him to one of the further shared rooms.

When he entered the two occupying guardsmen leapt to their feet to salute.

It was a scramble beneath cigar smoke, their coins and cards scattering across the tiny wooden table in the center of the room. Uniforms, helmets, and coats littered the beds on either side, even on the unoccupied third bed shoved in an opposite corner. Dalen waved his hand to clear the air and called out, "At ease men, I'm not here to regulate your off duty hours."

The soldiers glanced at each other before their arms lowered and their shoulders slackened.

The Commander moved inside, his tall frame entering the crammed space to allow Corvo a sight within. "I'm assigning our new recruit to this room with you two." He motioned to Corvo, and the men's faces drew together curiously, staring at the Serkonan with obvious new interest and immediate suspicion.

"Commander?" One asked, his hand reaching to pull his cigar from the grip of his teeth.

"I know its last minute, but Corvo here was recruited from Her Majesty directly." He explained, steadying his authoritative gaze on the two soldiers. "He will be a part of your squad, so I expect you both to help him prepare for his posts."

The room was oddly strenuous, and Dalen glanced at Corvo's indifferent and almost disinterested looking gaze. He was scanning the room, not looking at the soldiers who appeared very wary. Dalen couldn't recall their names precisely, but he had seen them about on their duties. The one fingering his cigar nodded. "Well then... Corvo? It's good to meet you." The sentence sounded as forced as it must have felt as the soldier looked pained with the pleasantry.

Corvo didn't say anything, his even look glancing at Dalen almost pointedly.

The Commander sighed. "Do either of you know Sign?" He urged.

The two looked at each other oddly before the other spoke, clearing his gruff throat sheepishly. "No Sir. We weren't part of the Watch training once we got our assignments for Tower duty."

The other guardsman frowned, quickly glancing at Commander Dalen. "Wait- he's mute Sir?"

Dalen nodded and if their expressions could grow any more upset and distasteful, they did.

Corvo entered the room further, ignoring the soldiers' scrutiny to head to the roughed up cot in the opposite corner. His hand waved the smoke away idly as the other pulled a small rucksack from his shoulder.

One of the guardsmen shook his head at the Commander. "How are we supposed to... talk to him?"

Dalen's shoulders slouched ever so slightly in his exhaustion. He had no time for these things. He had intended to find someone amongst the soldiers who could act as interpreter, but that was a waste of more time and a good soldier. He would not reorganize an entire group of men for one Serkonan. He shook his head and motioned his hand at them, fingers jolting quickly. "Either of you soldiers have a field manual on you?" He asked.

One shook his head, tapping his cigar on the table. The other reached back to his bunk and pulled a worn notebook of training conduct out from his pile of clothes. He handed it to the Commander, who waved it at them before tossing it before Corvo as he organized his things.

"A good soldier doesn't need to say much, Corvo, but if you have anything to report then you write it. Understood?" He directed.

The tanned face stared at the book, picking it up listlessly. With no nod, Dalen shifted impatiently. "You do know our written alphabet don't you?"

Corvo nodded at this, his thumb idly rubbing at the small manual's spine as his dark eyes analyzed the words on the cover.

"Good. There is space in there for notes and you can take the opportunity to read on being a proper Tower guardsman." The Commander turned to the two others with a curt nod. "I shouldn't hear of any problems then."

The two saluted. "No Sir." They echoed.

When the Commander left, silence reigned in the bunk once more.

They glared at the quiet and dark man occupying the corner of the room as they sat and one hushed to the other, "A damn Serkonan?"

The first shook his head, lighting up his Cigar once more before calling out at Corvo across the cramped space. "Are all Serks mute and ugly?"

Their laughter, the clank of chips and worn poker cards was the only response.

* * *

She could always recognize a headache before it began beating to life in the back of her skull.

It would start with a simple pinch in her nose, and then a hum in her ears, and before she knew it, it would be thumping a harsh rhythm in her mind.

"Empress, I'm not implying that we should cut spending on rations for the lower sectors but-"

"Yes, Delany, you are." The Empress corrected, her sharp eyes pinning the small rotund man with a glare that began to make him sweat. He looked odd in the tall mahogany chair and he shifted in obvious discomfort. "I had asked only for your report on the spending this month within my Treasury, which you had refused to give to Secretary Cromwell-"

"Only so I may seek audience with you my-"

"-and yet I receive your guidance that I should divert my finances to the state of the courts at Parliament, knowing full well my direction for the past four months have been towered the impoverished houses in the lower sectors." She ended, distractedly signaling her Matron from the corner of the room. The sitting room was much too bright for her growing headache, and she wanted to take preventative measures against an irritable disposition. She still had three more private audiences today.

Clara crossed the plush carpet to her side as the Treasurer hurriedly continued.

"I only mean to bring the court house to your attention, Majesty. Many of the families there have been suffering cutbacks on their salaries. The judges in particular. It has been a hard time for them, and they could use the support of their Regent... I mean no implication that they are… em, priority over the citizens of Dunwall."

Jessamine nodded to her Matron. "Tea, please Clara. Something mild." She looked a bit halfheartedly toward Delany, his large eyes flickering about her as if seeking her attention. "Would you like some Lord Treasurer?"

"No thank you Majesty." He mustered out, fingers gripping at the bright yellow lapels of his suit. Clara bowed delicately, retreating toward the small tea pantry adjacent the sitting room.

"Tell me, Delany, if you do not imply that I cut my charities to my citizens to finance my judges' then where shall these finances come from?" She asked, turning her accusing stare back on him. "As my Treasurer, I trust you must know of a source."

Delany looked slightly annoyed, his rounded shoulders squeezing as he pulled at his coat. "Majesty... Your funds are divided very specifically for any spare funds to go towards... Your Majesty's current directive..." He trailed.

Jessamine's curt head nodded. "Ah, I see, so the implication is there indeed." Jessamine emphasized lightly as Delaney squirmed.

"Empress the families of your judges..." He began and seemed to pause to gather his thoughts.

"I am assured that once my citizens are back on their feet from the harsh economic finances of living costs from last year, they will no doubt be using the courts when they can afford them." It was the ultimate goal of course, and she had learned by watching the rule of her father that wealth, like nurturing a tree, grew from the bottom up. "And once the courts are in use again, I guarantee my judges that their salaries will again be as steady as they were mere months ago."

Delany didn't seem to have anything to add, and the Empress wasn't really looking at him anyway. She seemed to be more focused on the sunlight streaming onto a painting above the mantle on the other side of the room. His audience had gone horribly and he couldn't seem to gain her severe attention. He tried to clear his throat to convince her once more despite the cold feeling of the discussions end.

A short muffled shout erupted from the door to the tea pantry. A rattle of dishes on a tray accompanied it, interrupting the formal tension of the room.

Delany jumped at the sound, pushing the arms of the chair to lift his small height to peer over the Empress at the door, even as Jessamine tensed and turned toward the room. "Clara?" She called, her tone cutting the air with apprehension.

"Matron is everything alright?"

"Y-Yes Mum!" She called back, "Just a guardsman- frightened me."

Jessamine frowned as Delany settled down beside her. "Guardsman?" She questioned quietly.

Clara soon came into the room, rushing forward towards her Madam with a quick glance behind her. "Yes he- I didn't hear him come in, forgive me Madam." She hushed, expertly placing the tray on the small sitting table.

Jessamine glanced up with a deep frown to the sudden appearance of the guard as he followed the Matron out, his face squashed in the helmet of his uniform and the sunlight casting a shadow across his features. Strange... had he been posted in the back of the room? Or inside the pantry itself? She had not seen him enter from the front of the room ... and there were no other entrances. Her eyes cut his form as if to try and carve out his features through the harsh shadows shielding them.

But the purpose was moot and she instead preoccupied herself with the tea brought out. "There are no guards to be posted in my sitting room. I need not remind my own men this, soldier." She reprimanded indirectly, before flicking her chin to the door. "Please see to your Commander about your post."

The guardsman silently began to make his leave and Jessamine didn't bother to watch for his salute. Satisfied, Jessamine reached for her teacup and paused at the sight of Delany. "Wait guardsman." She called, not glancing at him as she held her cup out for Clara to pour in some milk. "Please escort the Lord Treasurer out; as I am sure he will appreciate the courtesy." She commanded.

Delany took his queue for dismissal with a deep frown that seemed to radiate from him as he lifted himself from the chair. He bowed with a sighed out thanks before turning away. He huffed toward the guardsman, brushing him off irritably. They exited in a scuffle of boots and pointed heels.

Jessamine's shoulders lowered favorably in the absence of the Treasurer and her Matron smiled sympathetically at her, replacing the dishware on the table. "It seems the whole Tower is in disarray as of late, Majesty."

Jessamine closed her eyes to the heated fumes of her tea. But it was no use, the pounding had begun. "Hm... I'm afraid it will be so until the end of this month."

Clara frowned. "Is that a date of some announcement, Majesty?"

Jessamine watched the reflective surface of the amber liquid in her tea. "The announcement of Lord Protector."

* * *

George rolled the thick cigar to the other corner of his mouth, his tongue wetting and teeth digging into the paper's grain. The taste was relaxing and he sucked in the burning of it before slapping down his pair of cards.

Jacob cursed loudly and a clank of chips filled their bunk space.

They had about an hour left before their second patrol began. And the patrols lately had been ridiculous. The entire Tower seemed to buzz with work for the upcoming party for the military figureheads and the nobles had been attending the Tower nearly every day. The influx of visitors was nothing but more work on the men and it was taking a lot of games for George and Jacob to relax.

He grinned widely, scraping his winnings to his side of the table. Jacob flicked the last one over, already splaying the cards over the table. "Your winning is jus' luck." Jacob grumbled hotly.

The door to their bunk opened and they both glanced from their seats as the tall and dark faced Serk came in.

George hissed against his cigar, looking away frustrated. Jacob huffed and they shared a similar gaze before trying to focus on their game.

Corvo moved to his own corner without a look or a word.

Not that he could, George thought gruffly. The damn dirty Serkonan had been nothing but utter trouble to their stations. He was impossible to speak to - dumb mute that he was - and took orders just as stupidly.

It had only been two weeks and they had been constantly reprimanded on his behalf when he turned up missing for his posts. Or invaded the shifts of others. Their shouting's had done no good and George had to wonder if the wretched man was as deaf as he was mute.

Of course, Corvo hadn't really made any attempts to communicate his reasoning either. Commander Dalen had never come around with any sort of translator and the writing in his field manual rendered their squad Captain, Jacob and himself impatient. He scribbled away answers that only rebelled against his orders and they had all stopped listening.

The Empress's orders be damned, the Serkonan was useless. George pulled his cigar to point at Corvo. "The Captain was lookin' for you." He called across the room, the chair creaking in his weight as he leaned forward. "Said that one of the guys found you up on the third floor in the Royal wing."

Jacob scoffed loudly and they both glared at Corvo's back. "By Her Majesty's rooms eh? Want an audience with the Empress, do ya?" He laughed and glanced at George ruefully. "You gonna scribble at her Serk?"

They chuckled heartily at the imagery, but Corvo made no move to acknowledge them. Usual. George sighed, shaking his head and rubbed a hand on his head. "Fucking foreigners. Waste of a good Gristol man, promoting him." Jacob nodded in agreement.

They both paid no heed for the other man for the rest of their break and pointedly ignored him as he quietly wrote in his manual.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine  
Notes on Etiquette**

"Such a wonderful night for celebration, Your Majesty." The words were light and full of a familiar tone for formality and praise. It was only slightly forced.

Jessamine smiled at the woman before her, awaiting her and her husband's low bow before answering. Her glittering hairpieces flashed under the lights of her palace, matching her extravagant neck jewelry. Jessamine found it a bit garish. "It is. But any night is a fine one to honor my men of service."

The woman smiled brilliantly, only just showing some of her teeth. Her husband, a Navy Officer, looked far more nervous than his wife. He was stiff as a board, staring past Jessamine's shoulder with his lips pressed tightly together. He reminded her of the bust of some famous captain that had once sat on her Father's desk. She waited politely for the conversation to continue.

The woman began to look a bit apprehensive, and Jessamine pretended not to notice her pinch her husband hard.

"Majesty." He attempted, flickering his gaze across her face nervously.

She decided to save the poor man. "Chief Officer Brigg, of the second fleet, as I recall."

His wife gave out a polite laugh, dabbing her fingers at the air. "The very same! It should be no surprise you know him. My husband just received a great honor last month. Gold stripes!" She rushed, nudging her husband's shoulders with her own. "Isn't that right darling?"

"Yes-Yes that's right." He nodded. He failed at trying to bring a smile to his lips. His wife's own gilded expression fell.

"My congratulations are extended to you Officer Brigg, a fine pleasure it is to have honorable seamen in my Navy." She said. But Jessamine had had enough of this game and this wasn't the first detached conversation of the evening (nor was it seemingly the last.) She lifted her neck, glancing away from the couple. "If you will excuse me, I have a few others to greet. But please enjoy." They bowed before she even finished her sentence.

She took her leave, moving across the gleaming slate of her foyer. It was everything she hadn't wanted it to be. The evening was in full swing. Her councilmen flittering about like insects preparing their military men with all their cue lines and shining uniforms, begging her to come by and converse with each Captain and Commander.

The women were much worse. They always were. The wives, mistresses, and fiancée's knew how to play the game better than even the most twisted advisor did. They socialized and gossiped, gathering around the tables to devise their own manipulations to oust others and impress a selected supporter. It was a rally, a big show, all put on for her and her dreaded golden scale. She would pass judgment and select which to promote to a title of wealth and status.

She paused beside Secretary Cromwell, who eyed her warily over his glass of wine. She said nothing to him, gazing out onto the foyer and the dancing going on with the noble women and the men in uniform. She had hoped for a casual evaluation, but evidently the ruse of 'celebrating her military' was transparent to the party's true intent. That much was obvious.

They had lit the Tower with lanterns, dimming the flames to gentle warmth. The laughter and chatter only barely matched the set of string musicians pouring music from their place on the middle of her grand staircase like water into a pool of dancing fish. It seemed all so casual and happy. A lie; and a disturbing one in light of the mourning only weeks ago of the one they were all so eager to replace.

"How does the night fare you, Empress?" Cromwell asked.

"Well." She said simply.

Cromwell shifted on his feet, his long fingers adjusting his cravat with slight apprehension. She waited for the coming question. "Have you met Admiral Toddlin yet?"

Of course. "I have."

Toddlin had been what she expected of his noble house lineage; the perfect image of society. He was handsome, only slightly older than her and very charming. He was unmarried and dutiful. He commanded her best fleet, with high marks in his evaluations and reports of valiant actions during conflict at sea. He knew when to let her speak, when to look away, and what to ask. He gave her his sincerest condolences on Essen and congratulations on her established treaty. Toddlin had even managed the nerve to ask her to a dance, which she politely declined.

His uncle was a retired judge in her Privy Council.

It had all been very rehearsed and despite having spoken to him for a good hour of the evening, she still felt she knew nothing about him. It was if he had simply read out his dossier to her with an ample smile. But, hard as it was to admit, he had given the best presentation tonight.

"Toddlin is a good man." Cromwell said quietly.

"He was very polite," Was all she offered. "I had hoped to see more of Commander Dalen, but I suppose someone must do the job while we seek another."

It was a bit bitter to say, but it was her opinion anyway. She didn't necessarily prefer the Commander. She hardly knew him either. But the fact that he had quietly denied the invitation to fulfill his acting duties as stand-in Royal Protector spoke more volumes to her than Toddlin's extensive vocabulary.

Cromwell sighed beside her. "I know this wasn't what we expected. But it is still a chance to see them all in a potential place. Here at court." He tried to reason.

She glanced at him. "I never said it wasn't, Secretary." She hinted and watched his defeated expression with only slight pleasure. As hard as he was trying to drive the choices with the council behind him, she knew the process was no easier for him either. No doubt each advisor was setting fire to his tailcoats hoping to have him persuade their votes. She gave her Secretary a sad smile and looked away to the eastern hallway, leading to her courtyard. "Forgive me Cromwell, I think it's time for a short rest."

He looked a bit put out, but bowed.

"I promise to return shortly." She reassured him even as she dismissed herself. She moved to the outer room to escape any interruptions for more introductions. A few women in a gaggle paused to bow to her as she passed; their heads low and her stride quick.

When she reached the entrance of the hallway she allowed herself to clutch at her stomach gently, a bit overwhelmed with the night. Her dress fluttered around her ankles at the movement, the lace cuffs tickling the back of her hand. She had not intended to make any use of the gauzy black train flowing behind her. Dresses had never been her preference, even when they were the monotonous colors she favored. They far restrained her from patrolling her own tower and riding into the groves when the urge stuck her. But she had wanted to appear less formal to set a tone. Of course, it didn't work and now she was left wary in body and mind.

She paused halfway down the hallway, doubting for a second if it was wise to find a moment of privacy. Perhaps she should simply hold out until it was over. But her mind whispered that she had seen enough. No one would question the Empress' decision to retire. And if they did, it would be done silently. The party had done nothing but further pressure her mind and only reinforced the dilemma of her choices.

There was a shift in the corner of her eye and her hands dropped as her gaze caught movement in the shadows stretched out on the tiles beneath her. She turned around, wondering if someone had come to call her back.

A guardsman paused in his steps toward her, his hands stiffening at his sides. He was closer than she expected, merely a few feet away. How had she not heard him?

"Guardsman?" She acknowledged, awaiting either his message or his bow. Or even a self-dismissal.

He shifted slightly and she peered curiously at him. He wore a patrol man's cap as opposed to a helmet, a small detail that seemed strange now that she pieced it together. It cut close to his brows, shading his eyes darkly in the light of the hallway. Still he said nothing. Perhaps this was his patrol and he had not expected to see her there?

Their training surely covered how to respond to the Empress though. She dismissed him nonetheless. "You may go guardsman. I will be out in the courtyard should the Commander have need of me." She nodded and turned to leave.

Incredulously, he moved after her and she paused again to bring her appalled eyes on him.

"Corvo?" She asked with sudden surprise, his face clicking in recognition as he stepped closer. His dark eyes stared directly back into hers, unsettling her and yet stilling her with its familiarity. No other she had known had dared such disrespect. He nodded to her at his name and she couldn't help the curve of her lips. "Forgive me, I did not recognize you."

He said nothing, but his gaze left for a few seconds to look back towards the doors to the courtyard.

She followed his gaze in confusion before gaining his attention once more. "Is this your assigned patrol for the evening?"

Corvo shook his head, but of course, he offered no explanation to his disagreement. She sighed in slight relief, ignoring the one sided-ness of their transaction. It was almost refreshing in a way. Not having to wait for the right social cues or lay on her heavy formality. "I'm surprised to see you, though I know it was I who had you assigned here at the Tower." She trailed before quirking her brow in honest curiosity. "I take it the transition is smooth?"

She watched as his gaze flickered away once more, his lips parting only slightly. He did not nod nor did he shake his head at the question and she realized he looked a bit uncomfortable. Then again, he looked downright odd in the Gristol colors. The red and deep blue seemed so loud on him, and the cap shoved down on his head almost hid him beneath the silhouette of the uniform, his long unkempt hair rebelling against it.

She clasped her hands before her. It was a bit of a loss to ask him anything, and again she felt strangely inadequate. It wasn't as if Corvo was of a station that she needed to speak to or was signing a learned and sought after skill. But the intensity of his expressions hinted that he had things to say and her mind accused her of not knowing the right tools. Not when she knew his hands moved so intelligently.

Corvo made no nod or move to continue on to his post, looking down at her strangely while she considered the hallway politely.

"Will you accompany me to the courtyard?" She questioned, breaking the tense and utter silence they stood in.

Corvo's eyes found hers once again, staring with a restrained question.

"I plan to get refreshed with the air and it is not befitting that I stray from a party alone." True enough. She would not admit her quiet longing for company that was not actively trying to impress her. Nor anyone gaggling at the mouth with smooth underlying motives. "Besides, with my security at odds I'm sure Commander Dalen would-"

Corvo nodded with such an abruptness she didn't see a need to try and convince him further.

It wasn't cold. The dreary airs of Dunwall were heavy with humidity. And the moistness was pleasantly placid. Her gate was slow and deliberate despite having no thoughts of direction. The courtyard was aligned with hedges along its gravel path that crisscrossed across the grounds towards a set of stairs leading to the gazebo overlooking the harbor.

Corvo followed her steps with consideration. He wasn't quite walking beside her nor was he behind her. His broad shoulders offset her slim ones, his boots following a rhythm he had created from her own steps. All the while he carefully avoided the expensively light fabric of her dress trailing behind her.

They didn't say anything for a while. She let herself breathe easily, watching the lights of the city, of her people, while his own gaze seemed to trace the outline of the Tower and the shadows of the hedges.

As they neared the gazebo, she broke the quiet. "It is my hope that you find the Tower preferable to the Watch." She began, turning to glance at him as she placed her hands behind her back. "I imagine duties are smoother in a smaller faction."

Corvo didn't step up to the gazebo as she did. He stood outside it, watching her enter with no intention in his expression to answer her or follow her.

When she saw his dutiful stance, legs spread and eyes attentive, she nearly sighed. The utter precision of his discipline was admirable, but she found herself a bit tired of regulations. She had not spoken casually with someone since much before her trip to Serkonos and that had been with Essen himself. The need for some sort of escape from such things nagged at her and selfishly she knew Corvo seemed the best candidate. He was a soldier who could not question her and a mute who could not voice his judgments behind her back. And she got the feeling that even if he could…perhaps he wouldn't.

"Please." She gestured, motioning towards her side.

It was a moment before he entered. Again, he didn't quite stand at her side and his head bowed to gaze at the hems of her dress, but she was satisfied.

"Serkonos is never this bereft of its heat, I assume." She started again, looking up at him. He shook his head in what she assumed was agreement and continued. "It surprises me each time I visit. I do not know if I block it from my mind, or if it simply gets hotter while I am away." She mused quietly.

It was a little hopeless and she felt a bit self-centered, speaking to him without his consent to do so, nor his interaction. But the quiet was an easy one. He didn't seem perturbed and already she could feel some of her weariness lift from the stress at having to pick through another's words to read between the lines. Perhaps after a bit more, she could go back inside with a more resolute demeanor. "Have you been to Gristol before?"

Corvo shook his head, his eyes on the harbor with hers. His answer weighed a bit down on her. She had made no attempts to ensure his transition. With any enlisted soldier, it wouldn't matter. But Corvo had not only saved her life... he had been a gift. He was, in all conditions of the treaty, her property not just her soldier. It wasn't the way she wanted to think of it, but she knew that was what Lord Rossini had intended. "Have... you ever left Serkonos before?" She questioned further.

Another quiet shake of his head.

So he had never left Serkonos. He had never been anywhere else and now he was here, assigned to her Tower as an officer when he had been told he would be assigned as her 'Hand.' She felt the strange twinge of guilt settling in her stomach. She shifted, glancing at his face a bit timidly. But Corvo looked indifferent and not at all accusing as his eyes traced the horizon on the dark harbor.

"It must be very different."

Jessamine tried to recall the first time she had traveled from Gristol to another of the continents. But she had been young, impressionable, and directed by the guide of her father and her governess. There hadn't been a strange shock of cultures within the confines of her tutelage. And she could only recall getting used to traveling to the point that it was now, simply a hassle. Lately it was often that she never experienced enough of any culture in between her meetings with ambassadors and lesser regents.

She glanced at him once more, her thin brow creasing lightly in a show of slight concern. "You're adapting fine, Corvo?" She asked.

His dark eyes lingered on hers and she could practically see the contemplation of answers within the shaded black irises. He looked so stern for someone his age (though she could only guess at his age.) His face looked carved from granite. Rough and uneven in some places, and wondrously smooth in others; like the planes of his cheeks and forehead. She noticed his hands sway ever so slightly at his sides, his thumbs running over the pads of his fingers. Thinking of words, perhaps?

He nodded.

If there was one thing Jessamine Kaldwin had become skilled at it was the ability to tell a lie when she saw one. Court life was nothing but veiled smiles, pinning eyes, and deceitful compliments. She knew when her Secretary would go running to plan with her advisors, and she knew when military men's wives did not actually like the colors of her ballroom. And while Corvo was... harder to read, with the subtle jerks of his brow or the twitch of a muscle in his jaw, she saw the hesitation in his chin and the hard determination of a lie in his eyes.

"Corvo," She began, her tone one similar to the one she gave to certain officers questioning a command. "I will not be appeased with half-truths." She accused.

Corvo's hands rose quickly, his brows knitting together with confusion in his eyes. His fingers moved through the air to trace, but he remembered his place and her inability to read him and instead his fingers gripped at the air before him in obvious helplessness.

Jessamine watched as his lips parted as if to deny her with the words he could not use, before he opted to simply shake his head.

She gave him a genuinely wry smile and averted her eyes in slight guilt for harking him. But when she looked at him once more it was with honesty. "Corvo, as your Empress I expect from you only truth." She chided before her tone grew as soft as her eyes. "But, as the one who saved my life I would hope that you would speak frankly with me." She sighed, her own brows furrowing. "I know I am... inadequate to understand you. But I only have the word of my men to trust when it comes to the state of my forces."

She looked away, approaching the edge of the gazebo to look further out onto the lights on the harbor and leaving Corvo to contemplate her words. A slight breeze from the ocean brought up the humidity around them along with the smell of salt. The scent mixed with the flora decorating the greenery around the gazebo, relaxing Jessamine's mind once more. If she tried, she could barely make out the strings from the inside of her court, their song pouring through the cracks in her palace into the night skies.

Corvo moved to stand beside her and it was at this point that his hands finally rose. She turned toward him, surprised and pleased. But instead of signing, they dove at the lapels of his coat. His head turned downward, peering into his uniform as his hands shifted awkwardly about the cloth. She frowned in confusion and was about to question him when he pulled out a small coal pencil and a palm-sized book. He moved a step toward her, lowering the book beneath her eyes as he began flipping through it rapidly.

It appeared to be an instruction manual of some sort and she recognized words and pictures of that of the Tower. A soldiers guide then? But as he turned the pages they were suddenly overwhelmed with scrawling handwritten letters. She recognized the script from his report, the shaky hand filling all the spaces in the book it could. Was he keeping notes? Or was this a means to communicate?

Jessamine waited patiently, glancing at his thoughtful and focused expression as he seemed to try and find something specific he had written. "Was there something you wanted to sho-"

His large frame stepped forward again as he spread the page, bringing it towards her insistently. She flushed at the disregard to her proximity, but allowed it, interested as she was in what he was trying to show her. Her hands touched the spread gently, an entire blank page devoted to nothing but his small writing. His finger pushed at hers, pointing at a paragraph in specific for her to read.

_Not enough men on the south entrance. There are five gaps of entry into the third floor from the south side. More than ten windows are left unlocked and unmanned. There is no patrol on the southeast wall. The gardeners on the south exit go unchecked daily. _

She paused in her reading, her delicate brows rising as she looked up at him in curiosity. "You're not... happy with security of the southern part of my Tower?" She questioned slowly.

She watched Corvo's throat swallow and was shocked and slightly amused to see a sign in nervousness on him. But his jaw tightened and his brows narrowed, fingers fumbling over hers to turn the pages once more. She smiled politely at his determination and read the next section of a page he tapped at resolutely.

_One of the maids stole cutlery. There are 22 maids in total of the kitchen. They do not seem to be checked at the beginning or end of the day. I was able to enter the kitchens and have access to the food being prepared without notice of any of the maids or the cooks. Five cooks. No patrols stationed in the kitchen. _

Her lips pursed at the information, glancing around to see that many of Corvo's notes were like this, observations of security. She frowned, looking up at him with slight worry. "Why have you not reported this to my Commander?"

Corvo's brow twitched, eyes shifting to look away from her and glare out on the horizon. His hands dropped, allowing her took hold the book herself.

She recognized the defeated silence he gave. "They aren't listening to you, are they?" She assumed, already turning a page to continue to read.

_Six men of the west patrol skip duty. Three hours in total of no patrol on west side. Fence locks on the west entrance go unchecked. Easily broken with a metal plier. _

_Locked door in West wing prevents quick access to exiting the Tower in case of panic._

_Patrol men allowed to leave Waterlock unattended for break?_

_Wine shipments come in without proper papers._

The amount of information in his notes was incredible. And skimming through the pages she saw small diagrams, and images of her Tower. Her eyes scoured the page, reading of the things going on about her Tower she hadn't an inkling of. Were these things not big problems? Or perhaps Corvo was paranoid of his new station? No... Some of these things should be looked into. She looked up at his profile with wonder. Well, she had asked him to be frank with her. Pointing out the security and detail of her men was horrible was definitely frank.

"Corvo." His eyes found her once more, glancing at his book before waiting for her words. "May I keep this?"

His fingers rose touch the worn spine and his expression seemed... hesitant. But his eyes found hers and he nodded. She watched him signal at her. The same strange signal she had seen him make twice since they met. Two fingers measuring his heart and then placing them at his hip.

"I promise to return it to you, but I would like to read and attend to these matters." He nodded sharply and she gave him another reassuring smile. "Your... avid dedication to Gristol is greatly appreciated and I am very much impressed with your efforts." He looked a bit uncomfortable (shy, maybe?), but made no move besides to stare at her.

"I will see to it that at the end of this week I come to your station to hear your report myself." She ordered. Corvo's attention was severe now; his brows relaxing and his eyes grew large. "You'll report directly to me now."

It was the only way she could assure that he was being well treated. And after he had done so much for her service, she really couldn't think of a better way to continue his loyalties. She closed his book gently, clasping it in her fingers as she considered him. Her initial judgment could not have been more wrong of him. And despite his... conduct she was taken with his devotion to his position. He seemed earnestly hardworking, if inept at court manners. Not to mention his company was soothing. It was the silence, perhaps, which made her slightly guilty, but it was also the informality. He respected her enough to keep his stance as an Officer and yet the liberating feel of someone actually looking directly at her was something she found herself longing for. It was strange how she felt he gave her more attention than any other and yet in doing so he was considered 'rude.'

She motioned toward the Tower once more. Corvo quickly got the notion, straightening his shoulders and taking his lead to escort her back inside.

When they were again in the same hall they had run into each other at, she turned to him fully. "Thank you Corvo. I have found a trust in you for your honesty. Please do not lose that too soon; it is something I would value."

The gold lights of the hallways highlighted his tan skin and she allowed herself to read his expression fully. His face was shaded under the odd captain's hat but she could still see his lashes lower and his dark brows ease. Jessamine could only guess that he looked more relieved than when they had first begun speaking. His eyes flickered from hers, down to his book and she wondered if he waited for orders or for some…action.

She found herself once again glancing to the floor. She seemed to do that a lot when his form loomed in front of her. It was hard to tell if the gruffness of his presence was because he was Serkonan or if it was simply Corvo.

"I have honored you with a station of higher position and yet I still find myself unable to otherwise thank you." She chuckled quietly, her smile demure.

Corvo's hand rose slowly, his rough fingers pressing against his lips before slowly dropping toward her, bare and giving.

_Thank you._

Jessamine felt her ears burn, but her smile was wide and happy all the same. "Oh- yes I see, of course." She agreed and before she found it in herself to be proper, lifted her own fingers to press upon her lips and repeat the gesture.

His cheek twitched, the corner of his mouth tugging as if fighting the urge to smile. She could see the unrestrained laughter in his eyes.

They shared the smile and this time when she looked away, he did too.

He continued to escort her into the grand ballroom where she was immediately intercepted by Cromwell and the first judge of her Parliament. Her clipped words and practice speech left her no room to say goodbye and it wasn't until she had moved into two different conversations that the small weight of the field manual in her hands reminded her of the lost company.

She looked around the rest of the night at the men patrolling the party, but she did not spot Corvo again.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

**The Decided**

It would be Commander Dalen.

Gristol's clouds were finally roiling back into the sea; leaving Dunwall's early morning skies a pale blank sheet of grey.

Jessamine's fingers curled onto her chin, resting against the skin there as her eyes traced the faded silhouette of her city. They looked like cut paper, or a dab of faded paint; the tiny buildings amassing around the clock tower. Her own clock on the mantle clicked quietly, timing each one of her blinks and pacing her thoughts.

It was much too early to be awake, let alone contemplating deeply. She had tried to urge herself back into sleep after waking at the odd hour of dawn, but it seemed her worries cultivated into insomnia.

It wasn't the first time her inner fears had deprived her of sleep, of course. And she had remembered it happening often to her father as well. She had many memories of bidding him goodnight in a dark single-candle lit office only to wake the next morning and find him in the same clothes and the candle dying its flame into the dish.

She felt she understood him so much more now than she ever had as a child. But perhaps that was the way of things for everyone and their parents, not just Emperor's and their children.

She had contemplated starting her day. Calling upon Clara to wake the house and begin calling for the bills and summoning her audiences early. It wasn't as if anyone would dare complain to her. They were on Jessamine's clock, not their own. But she had too much heart for it and found that the silence might help her active mind.

It was today.

She had to announce the Royal Protector in Parliament today.

She kept reminding herself that it was not a decision that would shake her Kingdom. It wasn't one that the entirety of Gristol's people waited on baited breath for. There were more important matters to decide upon. The growing rate of impoverish being one. She had been dealing with the repercussions of the Insurrection since she had been crowned and the nations began rising against the timid prosperity of her father's rule. The rapid rate of those falling into troubled times were enough to border a depression and Jessamine was trying everything in her power to fight against it.

Those were the things her mind worried on constantly. In comparison, the choice for the Lord Protector should not have lasted this long.

But a small part of her knew that the decision, while not crucial for her people, would affect her the most.

With her Privy Council scrambling arm and leg to gain power through their respective departments and with the nobility buying advisors off for their own interests, she needed to be able to rely on her own men. And relying on her men meant being able to rely on her Protector.

She couldn't recall how many times she had unconsciously thanked the heavens that Essen had been her Protector. He had been close, known, and trustworthy. He would never have skirted her orders in favor of coin. Nor would he have taken the Spymaster's commands instead of hers. Something the man tried to do with the Protector often. No. She needed that reassurance. If she couldn't win her court with her social decisions, or her council with the political ones, she needed to at least have her military defenses and the guard in her pocket.

And so, she had decided on Commander Dalen. The position was already currently filled by him and he had been Essen's right hand man. She knew her Privy Council would be more than a little upset when she announced the decision this afternoon, but she could risk their disapproval for her own reassurance. And hopefully the act would show some small faith in Morley considering the Commander's parentage.

It wasn't as if she particularly cared for the Commander. His brief meeting with her had been curt and informative. But he seemed to know the work well and he had yet to complain or ask for any intervention. The men no doubt knew his authority well. It was a logical fit.

So she didn't understand why she couldn't sleep.

Her fingers pressed soothingly on her cheek as she finally turned away from the morning scenery to contemplate her bed. With the amount of audiences she had today before the grueling deed was done, extra rest would benefit her and she inwardly coached herself to at least attempt sleep. Sighing tiredly, her fingers dove into the loose knot holding her hair on her neck, and dragged the tresses free to relax her skull.

She let her shoulders ease as she carefully sat on the lush covers, the comfort of the bed inviting her in, even as her mind refused. It would still be a few hours before her normal waking hour and so she figured that perhaps a small time struggling for sleep would be sacrificed than staying awake the entire time. Determined to relax herself her hands went for her night stand drawer in search of her hair brush. Peering inside the mahogany she paused at the sight of a small worn pocket manual.

Corvo's field manual.

She had placed it there a few nights before, just after the end of the party. She had retired in earnest, and decided to put the manual away until she could focus her attentions on fixing the issues she had read of it. Jessamine stared at it in thought, her fingers reaching it to bring it into her lap.

She couldn't attend to the matters Corvo had noted now. Not with announcing the Lord Protector today, but she had promised him that she would come for his report at the end of the week.

Jessamine realized with a fret that this was today as well.

She pushed aside the anxiety of it all as she opened the book, her fingers leafing through the printed text to try and find more of the Serkonan's scribbled word. She paused at a few blueprints of the Tower, its schematics detailing the layout of the main floors. The text of the book labeled the foyer, the hallways, offices and even a few closets. But there was new information there. Corvo's pencil smudging some corners as he labeled his own things; all the windows, which doors were locked, where no guards were posted and where some areas were 'blind.' On another page, there were lines drawn on top of the hallways, titled with different times. Patrols maybe? It seemed like he was recording the posts of others and their routine patrols.

Then came the lists she had seen the other night. Notes about the apparent tragedy that was the south side of the Tower's security. She felt herself smile in amusement at his factual and almost offended writing.

_Two guards on the south dock. There should be six. _

She knew it really wasn't funny and most likely a true issue. But somehow the image of him on the docks scribbling angrily into the small manual amused her. She wondered if he had been as attentive under Rossini's authority. But... then again, he had been Assassin Hand under Rossini, not a guard. Her mood sobered at the thought of Corvo being just as meticulous an assassin as he was an Officer.

She turned to another page to find lists of times and activities and was about to skim past them in assumption that they were his regulatory schedules when a line jumped out at her.

_10:34. She retires. _

Jessamine realized with a start that the lists of schedules on the spread were hers.

_10:00. Tea with the Matron. Matron leaves to attend quarters.  
10:48. Office for 2 hours. Two guards posted.  
12:22. Lunch on the balcony. One attending servant.  
1:00. Meeting with Commander.  
2:00. Tailoring. Private Quarters._

She remembered the day, barely a few days before the party. Her meeting with the Commander had been about the guest list and the final number of those attending. There were a few pages of this, but most were just notes on changes in her regular schedule, which he had also written down carefully. The warmth on her cheeks grew hot in mortification. Of course, she gave her appointments and schedules to the guard weekly. It wasn't embarrassing to know that they had to record where she was in order to care for her. But Corvo's attention was more intensive. Not even her Matron knew when to expect her call for a meeting or a tailoring.

A sudden fidgeting came over her as she wondered if he knew her to be awake now.

She almost had mind to check outside her door or down the hall.

Shaking off the feeling, she continued to read the scribing. There were more schedules, more small notes, and even some places where Serkonan words were written. His handwriting was more confident in his own language, swooping quickly and knowingly on the page.

It was strange to hear the voice reading in her head. Corvo was mute, of course, and she had never heard an inkling of what he might sound like. But the words voiced in her mind and off the page seemed calm, assured, and precise. It was as if she could place exactly his tone by the way he had held himself before her and she recalled his gaze meeting hers equally with a new appreciation.

In all honesty, Jessamine realized she could not have asked Serkonos for a better gift to show their loyalty.

* * *

She had spent the entire morning reading and memorizing Corvo's manual that she almost didn't notice her Matron come in until the curtains were pulled open to the sunlight.

As she had dressed for the day, she confirmed with Clara that yes; there were exactly 64 house servants in the tower beneath her. Not including the valets or the cooks. (Of which Jessamine now knew there were nearly twenty and five respectively.)

During breakfast she asked the posted guard about the locked door in the west wing, leading to the portrait hall. He answered that it was locked to ensure more safety by lessoning the number of places for an assailant to hide or escape. Jessamine noted while she sipped her tea that such a regulation was a foolish one. She was certain Corvo would agree.

And she had been in the middle of writing out an inquiry to Commander Dalen about the southern security of the Tower when Hiram Burrows was announced into her office.

Jessamine wasn't quite surprised to see the usually elusive Spymaster turn up the day of the new Royal Protector's announcement. But she wasn't… thrilled either. She had been pleased that the man hadn't begun throwing in his own nominations within her Privy Council, but the Royal Spymaster had his own ways of doing things. Usually that meant stirring things within his own department to influence others until she caught word of it.

Hiram Burrows was good at his job though. The reports she received from him about the national security as well as his own suggestions for the tower had always been detailed and intellectual…If a bit overly severe. His concern with the welfare of the rule over the Isles bordered on paranoia at the best of times and outright conspiracy at the worst.

But despite his eccentricity, Jessamine saw his devotion to the Gristol rule. He wanted what was best for the center of the Empire, even if it meant the worst for the rest of the Isles. And while it was a harsh standing, his loyalty to the progression of her Kingdom could not be denied.

"Spymaster." She greeted from her desk, relaxing her writing hand to a stop.

"Empress Kaldwin." He acknowledged, his long and sharp figure bowing gallantly before straightening to his stiff posture. "This day finds you well, I presume." He said. But his expression didn't quite look interested. Social trivialities had never been Burrow's strong suit. No, his remark on the day only pointed out why he was there.

"Yes, it does." She nodded, standing from her desk and motioning to the parchments on her desk. "I find my court and council working soundly."

"No doubt due to the... progress, in Serkonos." Hiram Burrows sniffed, tugging at his stiff cuffs. He looked up towards her with a twist in his features. "Condolences."

"Thank you." Jessamine accepted. The reminder wasn't a kind one, but she had long ago accepted the socialites requiring others to point out her old former Protector's death. She recognized Burrow's tone as well. He had opposed any compromise with Serkonos months ago. He had urged her to detain the ships raiding her whaling vessels to make an example of them. There would be no compromise with pirates, he had said.

Still, he conceded when she overruled him and sailed for Serkonos. The return with the death of her Lord Protector made the success sting a little, but she knew she would repeat the decision if she had to.

"I have heard word that there is search for candidates." Hiram said, straightening his poise and laying on the casualty of his voice thick. Jessamine nearly sighed out loud. Of course he had. He was not Spymaster for nothing. Though she supposed with how rowdy the Privy Council was being it wouldn't be hard to figure out what was going on. And she didn't need to remind herself that today was the day.

"Perhaps." She said vaguely. But she had had enough of the side stepping of the conversation. No doubt Burrows had as well. "Have you come to nominate someone in your department Lord Spymaster?"

"Why of course not, Empress." Hiram scoffed immediately and lifted a hand to gesture dismissively. His sharp features creased even more sharply, as if detesting the idea. "I had considered the notion of recommending my men. I cannot deny that they are all more than capable when it comes to security ... but they are better suited under my authority."

She wasn't sure if she was surprised. Hiram Burrows was usually selective in his efforts to oppose or support certain actions within her government, but it was never without reason. If he was not nominating anyone, she could only imagine it was because he was assured of the current candidates. Or perhaps the position simply didn't affect him or his department.

It only proved to her that the choice would impact her the most.

"I'm sure Your Majesty will choose the one suited most to your needs." He nodded before crossing his arms behind his back. "And be assured that if the sanctity of your Tower is ever tested that you can trust in me and my department. Regardless of whom you choose as your Lord Protector."

Jessamine nodded curtly at him. She had no doubts about that. After all, Hiram had been even more urgent towards matters of inner security than Lord Essen. She had to remind him constantly that his focus was on national matters. Not internal affairs. But the statement was still reassuring. He had her Kingdom in mind, no matter how strictly. "Thank you, the devotion is appreciated."

He nodded, but when he stepped forward and retrieved a primly folded parchment from his breast pocket she realized that the Lord Spymaster was not here to assure her. "I have a document for you, Empress, which will need your immediate attention."

She took the sealed paper from him and instantly recognized his own formal seal as well as a few from her own Privy Council.

"A bill has been drawn up to attest certain inactions against the situation within the... destitute areas of our city." He stated and continued quickly at the sight of Jessamine's pursed frown. "There are many who see a different strategy to amending the problem before it grows." His sharp blue eyes narrowed in a squint. "And we would not want that."

Her thumb smoothed over the Spymaster's seal and she held together her growing impatience. 'Petitions against the inactions with the poor.' Inaction... She _was _acting. She had been devoting funds straight to the rehabilitation houses and the government rations to help raise her people from poverty. With anger she recalled her meeting with her treasurer. No doubt he and those missing their cuts from her government had something to do with this.

Jessamine targeted her upset glare on the Spymaster, who obviously knew her own Council more than necessary.. "I will look over it when I feel it calls my attention." She nodded to him, flicking her eyes to the door to show him her dismissal.

"Soon then." He assumed and his thin lips quirked downward as his brows shot up. He bowed low before her desk and stood. "I wish you the best on your current affairs Your Majesty. And congratulations to whatever future Lord Protector you decide upon."

* * *

Secretary Cromwell shifted in discomfort. The teal blue sash along his shoulders that marked his title and position beside the Empress' side slipped down toward his lap. He tsked, fiddling with the silk on his neck and glancing at Jessamine Kaldwin's sharp face as she waited for the Parliament Caller to finish announcing the matter at hand.

He hated the formal sessions of Parliament as opposed to the more casual advisory sessions of the Privy Council, but there was nothing to be done about that as Secretary of the Lord Regent. The title felt heavy at times and this was one of them.

The past two months had been devastatingly stressful. It seemed even the simplest matters would set the council in a fit. They would all argue about the color of drapes if it were called to attention, so it was no surprise that they reeled like angry maids with the election of a new Lord Protector.

Though, he couldn't deny agreeing with them. It was for appearances sake and for the sake of the guard, who all seemed quietly frustrated in their helplessness of this decision. Looking around the room he spotted Commander Dalen near the large doors, stationed with another two guards. The man looked as tired as he did anxious and Cromwell did not envy him.

The session had gone slowly so far and the advisors all shared an expression of longing for the important announcement and the end of the meeting. They had talked about certain matters within other cities: tax problems in Driscol, and a regulation on exports. But the underlying wait for the announcement of Lord Protector buzzed through the room. He could see a select few judges pat their sweating heads and motion to each other reassuringly. Cromwell grabbed at his own frown, massaging his face and glancing once more, nervously, at the Empress.

Her pale eyes were pinning the announcer to his spot while her petite frame kept completely still. It seemed as if her breath and blinking eyes were timed. And she held no notes in front of her for distraction.

He didn't like that look.

That look usually foreboded the strong stubbornness of the Kaldwin lineage. Something Jessamine held in her a bit more than her Father had. Cromwell wanted to sink through the leather of his chair at that look.

They all stood with her as she did, acknowledging her intention to speak before sitting once more.

Her Majesty's face was set. It looked carved in the most careful fashion on the most pristine of marble. And when she spoke, her voice sounded like the sharp chisel that had cut it. She addressed the court, noting her gratitude to those who advised her. She thanked him specifically and Commander Dalen, for both their efforts to uphold the government's functions during a time of grief and transition. She spoke of the importance of keeping the Empire strong by the powers of allies and loyalty. It was all formality, of course, and he resisted the urge to tap his fingers on the desk in trepidation.

But then Cromwell became worried.

"As the trials of selecting this new position grow within my court, the specifications of the position of Lord Protector came to light. Not only am I selecting one to a higher in office and duty; but I am also accepting them into the long funded trust and devotion of my court. And into my personal favor. This is not only a matter of national import but an internal affair; a near private affair considering the actions in Serkonos dictating the situation."

His eyes darted about the room and he watched the other advisors and judges crinkle their faces in confusion. But he knew how to read the through the lines. She was sidestepping their nominations all together. She was claiming the matter of her exclusive authority because of the closeness with which Lord Protector was meant to commune with her.

_Meant to_. Cromwell reminded himself. There was a time perhaps, during the Morley Insurrection when the position was made, that the Lord Protector needed to act as the Regent's shadow; a true devotee to the life of the Emperor. But that was a time of war. And perhaps there was even a time where the Lord Protector did not require a great appearance or high standing like the times during her Father's reign. A reign that had been prosperous.

But times were different now in Gristol. Surely, the Empress could see that...

She continued, reiterating her absolute gratification of her advisors and their work on aiding her in this time.

She was going to title Commander Dalen. He could already hear it in his ears. Cromwell shot a look at the man, who seemed to have become as still as a statue at his post. Bastard.

He wanted to put his head in his hands and groan. He should have seen it coming, really. She had argued each step of the way against all the candidates. Especially their torch bearer, Toddlin. No…she would nominate the Morley-bred Commander and they would have to deal with the repercussions. Not that anyone would dare oppose her.

"...and I find myself in a position to do what is best for this Kingdom by way of my rule. I want nothing more than the supreme safety of all kept here. Not just the safety of my life and legacy, but the representation of all that Gristol stands for through that legacy."

He wondered how long it would take before the others sought him out to point their fingers and snarl at him for losing the nomination of Toddlin (and the funding that would have come with it.) He could already spot some in their restless seats glaring at him.

He supposed Dalen wasn't a bad Commander. And this was not the first time Jessamine Kaldwin overruled all advisors urgings.

Still—he was being presumptuous! There was still a chance that Toddlin would be called.

Cromwell felt himself intake air with the rest of the room as Jessamine's blue eyes lifted with her chin.

"So it is by my power and word that… Corvo Attano, be instated as my Lord Protector."

The reigning silence of shock stilled the room.

But the hush only lasted so long before head gestures and whispers began crawling about the table. The men in their heavy suits and adornments shook their heads and peered above each other as if the named man would suddenly show himself.

Any anger was replaced by utter confusion.

Secretary Cromwell's brows furrowed into his baffled frown, his tension and apprehension giving away to blank incomprehension.

He lifted his head from glancing about the room, ignoring the looks shot at his way to instead turn to Jessamine for answers. To her credit, even the Empress herself looked a bit taken aback by her own words. Her lips were parted and she seemed to gaze at none of them after the announcement. But her recovery was quick and her shoulders stiffened once more.

"Official inauguration of the position will be held in three weeks." She continued with the same steady confidence. "I trust in my loyal Privy Council and my Secretary to handle the preparations and affairs as we have all been planning."

The whispers were louder now. And outright questions were being asked between the men. He could feel the rise in distraught disappointment and like him; complete confusion.

"Gentleman." Her voice cut through the rabble.

The dismissal was marked with the announcer smacking the desk with a small gavel and like a gunshot the entire Council scrambled to their feet.

Any chance to inquire the Empress was swept away with her quick and graceful departure from the room.

And she took with her the answer to everyone's question.

_Who was Corvo Attano?_


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter 11**

**An Everyman**

Dunwall's skies poured with rain down upon its streets, and Jessamine glanced at the sight of the thundering droplets as Clara helped her slide her arms into a heavy black coat.

"The valet has drawn up a carriage to take you back to the Tower."

"I wish to see to my people first."

"Of course, Majesty."

Jessamine Kaldwin never missed First Mass. While she was not often seen attending service at the Abbey of Everyman regularly, she always attended at the first of the month.

She would sit in the high pew box and listen to the High Overseer's sermon with the rest of her people before insisting on giving alms to those that gathered after the service. Their Empress was not the most devout of those to rule and many speculated whether or not she practiced the teachings and lifestyle of the Strictures...but all knew their Regent adored her people. And coming to service seemed to be another one of her attempts to connect with them, even if the lower classes were regulated to the floor pews behind the nobles. Many would still amass near the gates to see her off, greet her, and accept her charity coin.

She had been thankful for the routine activity, especially after yesterday, where her announcement had stricken her council speechless. A first and most likely a last.

Today's service itself had been... well in all honesty she had been too busy trying to calm her thoughts and sort out her plans of action concerning her government to remember the theme of today's teachings. It was not as if she did not enjoy the stories and morals taught in the Abbey, nor did she not enjoy attending, she just could never find the time within her active schedule to devote herself to the cause.

She supposed with the amount of sacrifices she already made for her Kingdom, she had none left to give to the Everyman.

Nevertheless, the Abbey was a representative of her people. Or at least it preached so. And many of the common folk held a high faith with the Strictures that made her want to meet them on that level, even if she did not hang her own faith just as high.

Her people meant more to her than her doubts.

A few attending soldiers of the Royal Guard opened the doors from their pew box and she and Clara made their way to the exit of the Abbey.

Or they would have.

High Overseer Wolsey was dressed in his service robes. The stark red of their rich velvet cut through the white marble that made up the hallways of the Abbey as he made his way towards them. The man's gray hair peeked out from his red cap and dusted his frowning face. He bustled toward her quickly with his own Overseers at his sides, looking quite determined. Whatever it was Wolsey wanted audience with her about, she could only imagine.

"High Overseer. Your service today was a great one." She greeted as he bowed before her.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." He acknowledge with a slight cough in his throat. "I know you are headed back to the Tower... but I was hoping for a short word with you." His lips pushed against each other worryingly.

Jessamine's brow rose, but she acquiesced, waving her Matron and the guard away before continuing to walk leisurely toward the large windows of the hall. The High Overseer did not dismiss his own attending masked men.

"I will only have a short word. My people await me and I will not be late for them."

His robes swished as he neared her side, his hands crossing before him and kneading his knuckles in apprehension. Jessamine frowned at the gesture.

The High Overseer hardly ever pursued business with her. She didn't have much of an idea of what the exchanges had been like between Regent and Religion during her father's reign, but she knew it couldn't be any more than what she experienced now. The Abbey of Everyman was... contained. Their practices and regulations had always been slightly (or perhaps subtly) secular from her government. It wasn't really a negative thing. She had no business in the affairs of the Abbey so long as they did not overrule her reign, her laws, or start any wars in her name. And there had been no raids or purges led by the Abbey in a long time, long before the prosperous reign of her father anyway.

And it seemed the Abbey itself wanted little to do with her government as well. The Overseers themselves carried out the authority of the Abbey, and reports were turned into her office containing the monthly treasons and punishments for obstructing the Strictures. It was all very organized and smoothly run. She had never seen a need to intervene and she had not thought the High Overseer would either. So what could...?

"It is under my understanding, Majesty, that you have announced your new Lord Protector."

Jessamine turned her surprised gaze on Wolsey as he continued. He whispered quickly, his lips hardly opening and his small eyes gleaming out at her from his velvet hat. "A certain... Corvo Attano."

Jessamine had answered no audiences after her announcement the day prior. She had denied all the requests for meetings and letters. And there had been many. If this had been a confessional and if Jessamine had been a devotee, she would admit that her announcement had been a surprise to her as well. During the entirety of the Parliament session and her speech, she had practiced announcing Commander Dalen's name in her head. She had full intentions to name Dalen but...

But then she had remembered something else. Something more. The memorized notes in his attentive journal, the even stares that said more than any speech able soldier could, and the arms that had enveloped her in safety back in Serkonos.

When Corvo Attano's name fell through her lips as clear as day, she realized she may have decided a long time ago who she would rather have attending to her protection. She just hadn't known it until the time came.

And after avoiding all possible doubts by evading the audiences yesterday, she realized that this was what she wanted. Corvo was what she wanted. What she needed; a man with no loyalties but to her, one who seemed as extensive in his work as she was in her duties. One who would see the things she missed, direct her instead of manipulate her, and allow her confidentiality and reprieve.

It was a decision she knew she would have to fight for, but she didn't realize she had to fight the Abbey too.

"You are correct High Overseer. I have declared him my Protector as of yesterday." She nodded, trying her best to even her tone and seem utterly immoveable about the subject.

"Empress Kaldwin, it would be a sin to be silent about the dangers of such a choice." Wolsey began, his hands wringing so much his robes rolled up to his elbows. "The Abbey is deeply concerned with this matter."

"Concerned?" Jessamine cut in, turning a glare on him which he ignored by gazing out the window instead of her. "Is the Abbey questioning my authority?"

"Of course not, Majesty! But, you see- it is concern of a spiritual sense, a concern of the welfare of your people." He tried, his brows narrowing harshly at the window. "We-we know nothing of this man."

"It matters not what it known, but only what I decree, High Overseer."

He shifted in such a tizzy that Jessamine raised her brows in surprise. "I-It isn't a question about whether or not you have the authority, Empress!" He shouted in a hushed whisper, and Jessamine felt the other masked Overseers shift behind them. "It's about this man. This-This Serkonan man!"

Serkonan. The word made the problems clicked in her mind. She knew when she retreated yesterday that the fight for Corvo would be a hard one. Given that not only was he low stationed both in court and military position, but also that he was an uncouth, foreign, mute, ex-assassin.

She knew that his being Serkonan would be one of the bigger issues with him, but again, she had forgotten what that meant to the Abbey.

"Majesty, you know of the Serkonan... culture." The High Overseer struggled to spit out the word. As if the culture of the hot islands was more barbaric than what it truly was. "There is no true righteousness there. Not unless you count our own pilgrimages!" He shuffled heatedly, before continuing. "There is not but witchery, criminals and..." He paused, his expression crinkling deeply and his eyes glancing hesitantly towards Empress. "...dark worship."

Jessamine could feel her shoulders tense at the direct accusation. The offense was a high one, or it would have been if Corvo Attano was a Gristol man. But as of now, he had no bearing or reputation to ruin. Still, it was her judgment and her nominated man. Therefore it was her offense. "High Overseer, are you accusing the Lord Protector of Outsider worship?"

Wolsey seemed to backtrack quickly when he realized his mistake, but the anger and insistence didn't leave his expression. "No Majesty! I only wish to bring to your attention t-the... potential consequences!" He hurried, his fingers lifted to grab at his collared robe self-consciously and his voice went down to a low whisper again. "The Abbey is only concerned for the influences made upon your Kingdom and you should be as well."

"I can promise you that Corvo Attano is a reputable man." She assured impatiently. This issue was not something she had expected to deal with and was definitely not tolerated.

Wolsey huffed, "Yes, but is he of the Everyman?"

There would be no avoiding this. Jessamine looked back out toward the rain once more, contemplating her options. She knew that Wolsey was attesting Corvo altogether, but she would not back down simply on a case of spirituality. Not when that had no effect on Corvo's expertise as a Lord Protector. She had been more worried about his muteness than his religious practice when it came to potential hindrances.

"If the Abbey is so concerned, then Corvo will take vows to the Strictures before he is inaugurated."

Wolsey didn't seem to expect that. His mouth opened and closed in readiness to object, but said nothing. She knew if any had their way, Corvo wouldn't be inaugurated at all, but is seemed that at least the Abbey could not complain so long as Corvo was of the Everyman.

One step at a time then.

She felt her lips curve into a smug smile that she trained into a demure one. "It is settled. I will arrange for Corvo to attend confession. He can then take his vows before you, High Overseer, and commit himself to the Strictures."

Wolsey's firm frown grew deeper and his hands continued to wring themselves, but again, he simply nodded in appeasement. "Very well, Empress."

* * *

It wasn't long in the day before the second protest came.

"Secretary Cromwell, the decision has been made and my decree announced." Jessamine's tone clipped over her desk, eyes glaring daggers into the Secretary across her.

Cromwell's hair was ruffled and his tie askew as he rubbed the heel of his palms into his eyes and resisted the urge to groan aloud at her defense. "Please, Empress…. Please! You must consider the circumstances and the consequences of this choice!"

Jessamine openly huffed, turning her gaze dismissively from him to consider the papers on her desk instead. "I have, Secretary, which is why the verdict has been made."

"Majesty the council is beside themselves." Cromwell pleaded, leaning toward her in earnest. After the confusion had settled the day before it didn't take long for the Privy Council to scrounge up the measly dossier that belonged to one Corvo Attano. And it wasn't long after when the anger came again. "They are asking for a recall on advisement meetings. They have decided to extend the deadline for a decision as you first requested."

"No, Secretary." Jessamine said, barely looking at him from the papers.

"Please- t-they have all come to compromise that e-even Commander Dalen-!"

"I do not appreciate the high judgments to my choice!" She snapped, her posture straightening up to glare at Cromwell, who visibly shrunk. She relaxed at the sight of his tired and worn form. No doubt she had set fire to the Council, and her Secretary was mere kindling in their rage. She sighed, shaking her head. "No Cromwell. I will not be recalling my decree. Corvo Attano was responsible for saving my life in Serkonos. I could not think of a better Lord Protector."

Cromwell deflated, but his sunken eyes still tried to reach her. "No better man to save you, Majesty, but a better man for such a high position?"

"If I recall the choice, what will Serkonos think?" Jessamine argued. "No doubt the honor for them has already been leaked. It will be a high offense to simply take it back."

Cromwell winced, looking away before trying again. "But he's-he's mute!"

Jessamine sighed. It had only been a day and already the fight was beginning to wear down on her. "Yes, I know."

"A mute man in high office! How will he give his commands? His reports? His announcements to the court? His vows that I heard you so easily arranged."

Jessamine glared at him. Cromwell stared back in genuine concern and doubt. His hands moved to emphasize his next words. "You are asking a lot of your court Empress. And this man is... not prepared for the circumstances you are throwing him under."

Her lips parted at those words and she looked away quickly. She had not thought of that. What if Corvo didn't want such a station? It… wasn't something she had considered. In fact, it wasn't something she really should consider. No personal preference should matter in the face of an order by the Regent. It shouldn't matter whether or not Corvo agreed with his promotion.

But suddenly she realized he was in a controversial enough position that this would be more than just a premonition. This would put him in direct judgment of everyone.

Jessamine frowned and her hand pressed at her stomach as she considered the gravity of the responsibility. She had thought only of herself and how the decision would not affect her court or her people greatly - but her. It would affect her the most.

And, she realized, Corvo himself.

Still, she was right. Calling back the choice would not only be a great offense to the newly formed alliance with Serkonos, but it would make her appear weak. And she could not afford to appear easily manipulated by her court or her council.

No, she had made the decision, and despite her doubts she still felt at ease with Corvo's name under the title of Lord Protector.

"Then you will need to prepare him, Secretary."

"Which is why- me?" Cromwell shifted, his expression falling as he leaned back in his chair.

"I am declaring you the responsibility of our new Lord Protector. Make sure he is guided through the preparations for the position and ready for inauguration."

"What? Me? Majesty I can't-"

"I would not have any other do the job Cromwell, when I know others would rather he fail." She said, and looked at him evenly. "I know you will do your best to make sure appearances are kept and standards met."

Cromwell shook his head, looking all the more flustered than when he come in. "E-even if I can, how am I supposed to...to talk with him!?"

"I suggest you hire a signing translator, Secretary." Jessamine suggested with a soft chuckle, feeling more at ease to return to the papers upon her desk. She paused, looking up at him with a thought. "In fact... I am also putting you in charge of hiring a signing tutor; the best you can find in Dunwall that would accept a full time position here at the Tower."

"For your Privy Council, Majesty?"

"No, Secretary, for me."

* * *

George snubbed the short cigar down on the wood table, scraping the black ash from the end on the scratched surface. The movement jostled Jacob next to him, who looked at him with an odd expression in between his bites of soup.

"What's the matter with you now, eh?" Jacob asked, the spoon on his bowl scraping loudly and adding to the cacophony of noise in the mess hall. The month's new assignments had been today and the scramble for new positions and new posts had been hectic and grueling. The entirety of the Royal Guard had been rotated for new security walks and patrols. End of the months reports and quotas had to be turned in.

George continued to rub his cigar butt into the wood until the paper withered away underneath his fingers. His lips twisted in irritation. "That fuckin' Serk is the matter." George hissed.

Jacob harrumphed into his spoon, nodding in agreement.

The Serk in question had ruined their chances at a better post this month and they were now stuck on Waterlock duty. He hadn't shown up for post assignment and without the whole squad there they had been reprimanded and punished.

"And it's gonna fuckin' rain for the rest of this blasted month!" George snarled, brushing his fingers on the table to scatter ash across it. The guards across from him paused in their eating to stare at his outburst and he pointed at them. "That damned stupid mute doesn't belong here. He's always fuckin around and not doin his job. And we get the blame! Why?!" He shouted, his shoulder bumping into Jacob's.

"Hey!" Jacob whined, his soup bowl sloshing at the table. The soldiers among the other tables began to look around the mess hall, searching for the shouts and the noise louder than all the chatter. The rowdiness began to quiet as the hall listened for George's shouts.

"I don't fuckin' care what honors or promotions he's got, he shouldn't be here! He's a fuckin waste of a Gristol guardsman!" He shouted again. Jacob nodded in agreement and a few of the soldiers at their table whispered similar sentiments. "It's a damn shame and nothing but a pity job for a mute!"

The soft rise in understanding suddenly quieted and heads turned wildly to another side of the mess hall.

George breathed harshly after his yell. He glanced down at Jacob, who was looking across the room with the others. He followed the gaze, and the mess hall went still as Corvo entered softly.

The Serkonan gently removed the Captain's hat from his head, stepping soundlessly forward in the aisle of tables. His dark eyes glanced around warily as the soldiers all stared back at him and his fingers rubbed against the cloth of his hat hesitantly. His brow drew together in obvious confusion, and he flicked his gaze along all the soldier's faces before simply beginning to walk past them for the farther, unoccupied tables.

George raged at the sight of him and he shoved himself up from the long table, scattering a fork and spoon across the surface onto the floor. "You! Bloody Serk!" He shouted, making Corvo pause and all the sets of eyes in the hall flicker back and forth between them.

"Do you know what you did today, eh!? Do you know you fuckin' missed your damned post again and shot our assignments down the shitter!?" He accused and stepped out of the seats to face the mute head on.

Corvo shifted warily, his brown eyes sizing George up from head to toe as if wondering if the soldier would charge at him. Other guards began to rise from their tables, peering over each other to watch.

"And where the fuck were you, eh?! Out writing out your sad sob stories in your fuckin' book!? Off snitching to the Commander? Don't think I don't know you were lookin' for him yesterday!" He accused, stepping forward.

Corvo's face hardened, but he made no move. His expression drew tight and his dark eyes looked back and forth between George's bare hands.

A few shouts around the room erupted, guards standing and drawing in closer to the confrontation. Yells of urging echoed through the hall.

"I'm sick of this shit, Serk! And some good Gristol man should teach you a lesson!"

The noise exploded and George charged down the aisle toward Corvo with a fist raised.

Corvo took one step back and dropped his captain's hat.

* * *

"I'm... sorry to interrupt the duties Commander." Cromwell apologized quietly, following Commander Dalen's quick stride down the offices of the guard. It was more than a little awkward to have come calling on the man right after yesterday's announcement. Cromwell felt a huge sympathy for the man whom he had not vouched for during the choosing of the new Royal Protector, but now wished he could have.

Dalen, for his part, didn't look as put-out as he did tired. "It's alright Secretary." He nodded, directing them down the stairs to the lower barracks. "It's the first of the month, so we are busy with assignments and reports. The men get a bit antsy at getting the better posts, so there's a lot to deal with."

Cromwell looked around a bit distastefully at the bustling soldiers filing down the hallway as Cromwell continued, "So as you can imagine, I have yet to make any announcement following yesterday."

"Has he not been informed?"

"No."

Cromwell frowned, but again, he couldn't blame the Commander. Not when the announcement had come as a surprise to them all (and the man who replaced Dalen's would-be promotion was a much lower station than his own.)

"Attano didn't show up to re-assignment or his post today. But he should be back from wherever he was now. Most likely he's in the mess for dinner."

"Didn't show up?" Cromwell queried, his brows rising.

Dalen paused to look back at him with a dull and knowing expression. "He doesn't usually."

Cromwell sighed as they continued onwards toward the mess hall. Nothing he heard of the man the Empress had chosen sounded promising thus far. As they paused before the great doors the posted soldiers began to open, the Secretary began again, "Well, he won't be your problem anymore Commander. Her Majesty has ordered his immediate preparation and move to the Royal Protect-"

The noise from the mess hall drowned out Cromwell's voice and he and the Commander took in the rampaging sight with shock.

The soldiers were shouting and chanting, circled about one of the middle tables in a rabble. They clamored over each other in yells, standing on the wood surfaces to try to see into the center. There was movement between them and the unmistakable sound of someone yelling in a tussle.

Commander Dalen roared, calling for a halt, but only a few soldiers heard him and hurried away at the sight. "What in seven hells is going on here!? Back away! Attention!"

The guards that had been escorting them rushed forward to pull the men away from the circle and just as they did a body crashed on top of the table, scattering plates and food and splintering the wood. Shouts erupted again, and another man lunged for the one on the table, grabbing his coat and pulling him to his feet.

"Corvo!?" Commander Dalen shouted, spotting him as another soldier - George - began to pull the Serkonan into a choke hold that made him let go of the other. Another soldier stepped forward as if to punch at Corvo, but was stopped at a hard kick to the stomach. George wrestled his arms around him, but Corvo had put up a hand beside his neck, stopping the pressure from squeezing at his esophagus. Still, George was shouting at others to hit him as he held him still and others were shouting back encouragements.

"Stop this!" Dalen yelled, even as Cromwell came up to his side with an appalled expression.

"This is how your men are regulated, Commander?" The Secretary barbed and Dalen's face grew red in anger, pushing past him toward the two wrestling men to reach out and grab at George's shoulder. But before he could, Corvo's hands snaked up through the hold, grasping George's entire head and yanking his whole body over his shoulder.

George's yell ripped through the hall as he flipped in Corvo's hands and smashed onto the table in front of them, breaking the already splintered surface and smacking his head on the bench. Corvo twisted his arm, turning his wrist in the air in an awkward position before pinning George's neck with his knee.

"ENOUGH!" The Commander boomed.

It went silent aside from George's short shouts of pain. It was then that the Secretary stepped forward and the soldiers all seemed to recognize the garb he wore that indicated his Royal position. "Unhand him!" Cromwell ordered.

Corvo immediately let go of George, raising his hands in quiet surrender as the other guard's grabbed hold of his arms and shoulders to drag him away. The others rushed around George to get him back on his feet. "C-Com-Commander!" George coughed. His face was swollen and purple from his disorientating flip and the knee that had pressed down on his neck. He favored his left arm while the other pointed at Corvo. "The bastard mute atta-"

"Not you!" The Commander yelled. "You be silent!"

"Stupid fool!" Cromwell reprimanded. "Do you have any idea what you have done?" He chastised.

George looked confused and his angry expression twisted as he tried to point to Corvo once more. "But-"

"That is your new Lord Protector, you imbecile!"

The silence was deafening. All heads turned to snap their gaze at the Serkonan.

Corvo's dark eyes flickered hastily about all the pairs staring at him. The soldiers, George, the Commander, and the Royal Secretary… and slowly the hands holding him back let go. He eased slightly, still breathing a bit hard from the brawl, and took step forward.

His stare was inquiring and he seemed to look around for the one who would give him answers. His eyes found Cromwell and while his hands twitched at his sides, his lips parted with a short breath of air as if to ask with words he couldn't use.

The Secretary stared back at the man who had given him nothing but trouble since he first heard his name before gathering himself stiffly.

"Corvo Attano." He decreed. " By order of the Empress of the Isles, Jessamine Kaldwin the First, you are hereby titled as Royal Protector to the crown and to all of Dunwall."


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter 12**

**Silent Vows**

Her fingers twisted delicately, slowly and achingly.

"J...E...S...S...A...M... I-I find it difficult to even shape the letters."

"It's only because your fingers are not used to having to be so flexible, Majesty. It is much like playing an instrument that way."

It had taken Secretary Cromwell only a handful of days before he procured Jessamine a tutor.

Madame Jeanine Bonet was not from the Academy, nor any high standing school or trade house. The elderly woman with her prim grey hair tied sharply at her neck explained that she had learned sign as a nurse when she was young. She had attended the deaf and the disabled veterans from the war before becoming a translator at the Dunwall Asylum. She was a widow of ten years now, adorned in a matronly dress that cut her neck tightly. When introduced to the Empress, she did not small talk or babble. The Madame has simply bowed and asked how much the Empress already knew, all the while signing quickly along with her own spoken words. Jessamine knew immediately that she liked her.

It was only their second lesson, but the arrangement had been clear. Jessamine had drawn up the contract herself. Madame Bonet was to live in quarters made for her at the Tower, while she tutored the Empress every morning for a few hours. It was tentative, but it was also intended for the Madame to be on hand as the official teacher to any Royal who sought to learn sign.

After Jessamine mastered it first, of course.

Her fingers were already straining under the motions. The skill was a much harder one to learn than she originally imagined. And while the alphabet at times seemed easy; changing letters as quickly as she watched Madame Bonet doing so was challenging. Especially with letters like K or M; Which made her own name much too difficult for a beginner. They sat across from each other in Jessamine's parlor, the tea before had been forgotten in the light of their exchange.

To begin their lessons, Madame Bonet had given the Empress a simple pamphlet of etchings depicting the hand shapes for each letter and they would practice them all to memory.

Her brow furrowed, watching her fingers jerk strangely at her forceful use of them.

"Remember Empress, it is my understanding that you need only be able read the motions. Not make them." Madame Bonet reassured. She repeated Jessamine's name a few times for the Empress to watch. Her fingers moved deliberately slowly. They were precise, transforming into different shaped fists before tracing some elegant gesture in the air.

It was true. Corvo was mute, not deaf. She didn't actually have to learn or even use the articulated motions. But she was stubborn and intrigued. Not to mention she had a new appreciation for her Lord Protector. She recalled all the conversations she had seen him sign, his deft fingers quick and agile, flipping through the language like another blade in his hands.

Thoughtfully, she glanced at the chart of symbols and letters Bonet had given her. Her eyes found C, O, R and V quickly, and she realized with a huff of unfairness that Corvo's name was actually very easy to sign.

"Isn't there something done about names that are much too long? It seems such a hassle to spell out each letter in casual conversation."

Bonet considered her question as she lowered her hands, opting to take a break and have a sip of her tea. The morning light streamed through the window, highlighting the woman's taut features. "Short abbreviations are used for times like that. Nicknames, if you will. A symbol is used to represent a person." The elder woman carefully drank her cup, before raising only one of her hands. She then began signing her own long name. Jeanine Bonet. "Instead of all this, I am called Jeanine in this way." Her pointer finger lifted sharply before tapping straight on her chin. "It is the Sign for '_serious_.'"

Jessamine watched in earnest fascination. "You mean to say that another word is your nickname?" She queried. The Madame nodded. "How does one go about choosing a sign?"

"You do not choose a sign. It has to be given to you by another. Declaring yourself a sign is not... grammatically correct. It needs to make conversational sense." The Madame sniffed her nose. "The symbol has to have meaning. It's almost personal."

She deflated a bit at the explanation. In some way it made sense. After all, one did not choose their own name either. But the charming idea of choosing a symbol she liked was dashed away. "I see."

"It should be of no issue to you Majesty, because no one would call you by your first name. They would only address you as Your Majesty or Empress. No?"

That was true, but not any less disappointing. The rest of her quiet fascination with names slithered away. She wouldn't need one. "Of course." She reaffirmed, brushing aside her own dissatisfaction. Quirking a brow, she asked, "What exactly is that motion? My title?"

Madame Bonet's fingers measured her heart, before crossing over to her hip. And suddenly, all the times that Corvo had done that very gesture came to her mind.

_Your Majesty. _

It was almost as if she were filling in his voice from the gaps of his silence in her memories. As if he had been whispering before, and now he was loud and clear. He had been hailing her each time. It made obvious sense…so much sense that she felt a bit ridiculous for not realizing it before.

"We should continue with the alphabet. As convenient as signing is, everything is based on finger spelling the letters. So long as you can read that, you should be able to communicate. Very slowly of course, but that's still something." The Madame explained.

Jessamine nodded. "Yes, please continue."

* * *

"Dear heavens, your handwriting is atrocious."

Corvo didn't look very pleased at the comment.

Cromwell glanced up from the paper he had slid toward him on the table and frowned at his dour expression. "I am only remarking on it because it will be another thing we have to work on." He chided.

The Serkonan didn't seem to like that either, if the heavy furrow in his brow was any indication.

"The Secretary is right; you can't turn in reports like that." Commander Dalen commented, leaning over Cromwell's shoulder and chair to review the accused script. Cromwell resisted the urge to roll eyes childishly, but allowed himself a hopeless puff of air through his lips. The Commander continued to peer rudely over his shoulder and the Secretary sunk a little away from him.

Corvo's hands rose, briskly moving even though the two men weren't watching.

"He says... it's because he writes better in Serkonan."

Cromwell and Dalen looked up to Captain Morris, who translated Corvo's sign from the seat next to him.

When it came time for Cromwell to begin training Corvo after they moved him from the barracks to his new Tower quarters (which, considering the previous circumstances, had to be done so immediately), a translator was one of the first things that had to be recruited. Cromwell had thought to find someone in Court to suit the job, but as it turns out, nobility isn't really skilled in such things. His second thought had been to use the same tutor he had found for Her Majesty. But that would monopolize the time the Empress wanted for herself. So when the Secretary had conferred the issue with Corvo himself, the Serkonan had written out a note that there had been one Captain in the Watch who could read his sign. The arrangements had been made and the said Captain had been reassigned.

Morris leaned back in the lacquered chair, pushing up his cap to look down toward the Commander and the Secretary. "That is a crock of shit by the way, because they have the same letters."

Corvo signed with an irritated expression, but Morris waved him off. "Just admit that you have piss-all writing Corvo."

"Captain Morris, some propriety, _please_." Cromwell scoffed, reviewing the written hand again as he continued with a grumble. "At this rate he will be no closer to a proper Lord than I will to a vacation."

The preparations were going... slow. Cromwell had arranged everything for Her Majesty's own requests easily enough, but carrying out the circumstances needed for tutoring Corvo was much more difficult. Not only because the job was a little out of Cromwell's expertise (and interest), but also because of Corvo's own setbacks. The incident at the barracks seemed to have set the tone for Corvo's continued behavior. The men he had fought with had been reprimanded and put on leave... but Corvo couldn't actually be reprimanded. He was Lord Protector now; He held a higher station than the Commander...and the Secretary.

Not that Corvo really knew that.

Whatever the Serkonan's thoughts were on the sudden promotion, Cromwell didn't know for sure. He had yet to protest, or at least Cromwell hadn't seen any sort of fit from the man's hands on the issue. And while he seemed frustrated and confused with all the new duties that had been assigned for him to learn, he was actually trying to achieve them.

Cromwell was finding it difficult to compromise with the mute man. While he respected Corvo for trying, Corvo wasn't making his job at molding him into the appearance of a well-to-do Lord Protector any easier. He had been trying thus far to reassure Corvo that a ceremony was needed before he could actually attain the job. (Not true, by all means the man already had the job.) And that he needed to know and do all these things for appearances sake in order to appease the Empress. (Half true.)

So he had complied with Corvo's request for Captain Morris' presence, as unpleasant as it was turning out to be.

And in a turn of events, Cromwell was pleasantly surprised at the aid of Commander Dalen.

After the unseemly brawl at the barracks, Dalen had offered his full responsibility for preparing Corvo alongside the Secretary, who hadn't expected it of the Commander at all. Especially with Corvo being the surprise choice for a job Dalen had been most likely to get. Cromwell wasn't sure if the Commander was doing it because he wanted to save face from the new Lord Protector, or because he was actually concerned for the newcomer... but either way it worked out for everyone.

Dalen had only mentioned he wanted the Tower in good hands.

Good, _signing hands,_ Cromwell reminded himself.

So they spent the mornings reviewing court formalities until the early afternoon where Corvo attended Commander Dalen's side to watch him carry out his duties. The latter was the more successful of the two.

Corvo had proved himself more than capable of understanding exits, entrances, posts, and patrols better than any that Cromwell would compare to. Even Commander Dalen had lightened toward the Serkonan when the two conferred with each other on their patrols. Corvo had shed light on weakness on patrol. And Commander Dalen had explained certain formations that had to be taken do to protocols.

He could obviously fight too, being the former Gallows man that he was... However, understanding the legal garb of a report letter, why it's not proper to ask a woman her age, or attain cease and desist warrant before breaking a bone was a much more difficult concept for the Serkonan to grasp.

Every lesson in introduction was proven moot by Corvo's handicap. Demonstrations in escorting a lady by the arm were laughable, and always ended in an argument with Corvo not understanding why he couldn't just do his job in security. They had sat through dinner together to teach the Serkonan proper meal arrangement, which seemed to go well until the middle courses, where the silverware began changing. Cromwell could only imagine with a cringe what soiree's with the Protector would be like.

Not to mention...

"It's Restless Hands and Roaming Feet Corvo, not Restless Feet." Cromwell sighed, sliding the paper back to the Serkonan.

"_Roaming Hands."_ Morris chuckled from the far end, earning a glare from the Commander and the Secretary.

"I do hope you will reign in your amusement during Corvo's vows next week. You will, after all, be translating his confession." Cromwell chided. The Captain sobered at that and the Commander had his own laugh.

Corvo's hands made new words in the air and Morris sighed at his side, "Because the Empress orders it Corvo." He replied, not bothering to translate for the others.

"Do you mind Captain?"

"He's asking why he needs to be sworn into the religion of the Everyman."

Cromwell turned his attention back on Corvo, whose expression seemed more than a little frustrated. Black, unamused eyes stared back at the Secretary, who rubbed his temples. "The Abbey wants to be assured that the Royal Protector's...moral standing is aligned with their...teachings." Cromwell explained hesitantly, not exactly wanting to spell out the Abbey's prejudice of Serkonos people. He understood the concern, anyway. Not that he believed that all Serkonan's were witches and dark worshippers... but having a non-religious foreign man in a Royal position was controversial at best. Even he himself attended mass, if only for the benefits of not being questioned. "And the Empress has commanded it of you, so you will do it for her too."

Corvo's annoyed expression eased somewhat. He pulled the practiced written scriptures back, eyeing them carefully.

The tanned hands lifted again, signing slowly as Corvo's eyes reviewed the books of Strictures laid open before him. The three of them watched quietly, waiting for the end of his words so Morris could translate. The Captain's face seemed to draw in confusion as he began, "Corvo asks why hands that kill are considered restless."

The question wasn't one Cromwell expected. And the Secretary exchanged baffled looks with Commander Dalen, whose own usually stoic face seemed lost.

Morris cringed. "Can't we just send him to Morning school with the children?" He drawled, looking toward Corvo and catching him with a dubious eye. "It doesn't matter what the Strictures truly mean. You just have to know them. Everyone's supposed to just... figure them out on their own anyway. Slef-Enlightenment."

Cromwell gave Morris a deadpanned look at the not-true-at-all statement.

Corvo's hair fell across his face as he reread the Stricture in front of him. He continued to sign.

"He says... 'why does the Stricture say that farm labor is more productive than killing?'" Morris sighed. "Really Corvo?"

Commander Dalen's hand brushed against his chin. "I always interpreted it as; being restless could lead one to kill." He said quietly, considering the question honestly.

Corvo continued to gesture his thoughts to Morris' displeasure. "He asks, 'Then what about those who do not kill but do not work.'"

Cromwell groaned, his fingers pushing at his temples. Were they all really delving into the theology of the Strictures? They would be here all day! His voice snapped between all of them at the large desk, "I think perhaps that is enough of the Everyman for today." He clipped. "We still have plenty of time to remember the Strictures and teachings, but we don't have time to go over your all actions within court."

At the mention of court etiquette, Corvo's expression turned impossibly darker.

* * *

Since finally deciding on a Lord Protector, Jessamine felt much more at ease.

While the morning lessons were new, her ritual more or less returned to what it was before her trip to Serkonos. She was able to focus on the dire issues…issues of her city, her Empire and her people.

The Empire of Isles had been prosperous under her father. He had been tenacious, resourceful, and ambitious. Emperor Euhorn Kaldwin the II had employed countless work on building within Gristol itself. Kaldwin's Bridge, Coldridge Prison, and the Clock tower had all been commissioned and overseen by him. Even the Waterlock to Dunwall Tower had been his renovation. They had given the Gristol people pride, unity, and strength as the center of the Isles. It had worked to maintain their glory after the Insurrection, and reassure the Isles the fortitude that was the center of the government. He had been personable, close to his citizens, and fair. Even court had adored him.

Jessamine was fighting hard to maintain inklings of him. But... very simply, there was no more money for such things.

The Insurrection had been long. And while Gristol had come out in all its glory when Morley finally fell back, Morley and the other Isles had no such wealth. The others had struggled in their own Depression. And her father had sought to cut them off, fearful that resourcing anything from Gristol would amount to Morley regrouping, and fighting once more. It was a reasonable decision at the time. But now they were paying for it. Depression even for one Isle would mean it for the others. And prices on imports rose enough to make the poor in Gristol poorer. Soon they were being dragged under without the balance of the others. Especially after the immense spending beneath her father.

But Jessamine couldn't let it happen. She had to remain strong, even in appearance; for her people and for all the Empire. They could not risk another Insurrection. Or worse, a civil war within Gristol itself.

She was trying to uphold her fairness to her people, the connection with them that her father had. But she felt like she was losing her inner government in the process. Her people loved her, but her court was turning sour.

She stared down at bill on her desk that Hiram Burrows had written in junction with the other council members. Her fingers scratched another blank page beside it, as she considered her decree to refute the bill.

The office door opened, and her matron came in, bowing slowly with a tray of dinner in her hands. "Majesty."

"Set it here, Clara. I will have no time to move to the table."

Clara frowned knowingly from across the room, but approached and did as she was told. She carefully moved the tea before Jessamine, before setting out the smaller dishes of soup and cut bread.

"Tonight it is… em... C..a...u...-Cauliflower, ma'am." Clara said and Jessamine looked up in time to watch the matron spell out the words on her fingers. Her hand was shaky, but there was a smile on her face that Jessamine met.

"Ah- the 'F' to the 'L' looks difficult." She chuckled beneath her breath.

Clara nodded. "I have not learned it all as quick as you, Majesty. And I'm afraid there is no sign for Cauliflower that I know of but..." She paused, both hands raising and motioning before the Empress.

_Dinner is soup, tea, bread, and salt_.

"Salt?" Jessamine questioned.

"I just wanted to show that I knew the word, ma'am."

"Well I guess it shows that I know it too."

They shared pleased smiles with each other before Clara bowed herself out. The office door closed quietly and the silence was suddenly overbearing.

The ease that came with having settled on a Lord Protector seemed to fly away at the sight of Burrow's bill. She frowned once more, lying down her quill on the desk to lean back in her chair with a sigh.

From her window, she could see Wrenhaven river, glittering in the dying sunset of the evening. And quietly her hands signed the letters. _W-R-E-N-H-A-V-E-N_. She had to pause to remember the word for _river_, but it came, and then _boat_. _Whale. Whale Oil. Window. Curtain. Desk. Quill._

She tried to imagine Corvo doing the words instead, because eventually, she would only be reading his words. Not making them.

He would be inaugurated at the end of the week. Her speech for the ceremony was already written.

She had not seen him since the night of the party weeks ago, before she had ever decided on him. She had also seen very little of her Secretary or Commander Dalen for that matter. And when Cromwell did show his face, it was usually haggard and tired during Privy Council sessions. So she could only guess that Corvo's guidance and training was doing well.

While there had been many countless letters of protest and inquiry since Corvo's announcement, she still had not changed her mind. And Cromwell had made no mention of failure.

He was appointed to take his vows at the Abbey tomorrow.

Her mind drifted to imagining the ordeal. Corvo would be in his roughed attire, standing in the pristine Abbey before the High Overseer's pursed and distasteful face. It would be utterly silent as Corvo signed, explaining his sins against the Strictures before his rebirth as an Everyman. Cromwell would be there, looking bored but also nervous, shifting on his feet and coughing each time Corvo looked to make a mistake.

Jessamine wondered if he would confess of the men's murders back in Serkonos. Of the ones she had seen him kill. She closed her eyes, remembering his rigid face as he brought a pistol to an assassin's head and blew his skull outward in a shower of red.

It reminded her that he was first and foremost, a Gallows Assassin. An effective one from what she had experienced.

Swallowing, Jessamine realized she was not quite at ease as she had first thought.

And glancing at Burrow's bill and her dinner, she realized she was also not hungry.

* * *

"...'I have killed people for others.'" Morris translated.

His throat felt heavy. He didn't really want to do this. Before Serkonos he had been a simple Captain with a decent squad of men. They had been on their way up. Recognized and selected by the Royal Protector himself to accompany the Empress on a Diplomatic trip to Serkonos as security detail.

Morris liked drinking after a long night. He liked hearing a good joke over a brew with some of his men at a pub. He enjoyed a fresh uniform and sleeping early.

He didn't like sign translating... and he didn't like talking about religion.

High Overseer Wolsey's brows curved inward, staring down at Corvo's hunched form.

The Serkonan was kneeling on a velvet pad in the center of the Abbey's sermon podium, the pews behind him empty but for Cromwell and Commander Dalen. The latter was at the doors, stationed like a true soldier ready to excuse any from interrupting the private affair. Cromwell was seated stiffly at the front pew, his face looking upset and fretful. The wiry Secretary had his long legs jittering on the tiles of the abbey, his heels clapping on the floor and echoing through the high ceilings.

Morris was standing between Corvo and the High Overseer, staring down at the kneeling Serk and feeling very, very uncomfortable. Normally, confession was done privately in isolated boxes, before reciting the Strictures and being accepted into the Abbey. But seeing as that would be impossible with Corvo's addled tongue, here they all were; waiting to hear the man's dirty secrets.

They had all known this wasn't going to go as well as it could. After the first few days of trying to tutor Corvo, that much had been certain.

But this was more than a little awkward.

The High Overseer seemed to wait for the would-be Lord Protector to continue and breathed loudly when he didn't. Corvo's face was unflinching and his dark eyes stared back at Wolsey unrelentingly. Wolsey huffed, turning in his ornate robes and shaking the Stricture book in his hands as he glared at Morris. "Is that all he will confess?!" He asked, aghast.

"No- he, he has more!" Cromwell called from his spot, looking like he wanted to run over and shake Corvo senseless. Morris felt similar.

"Corvo... you have to explain." Morris tried with clenched teeth and the Serk seemed to consider this.

They all breathed a sigh of relief as he began signing again.

But Morris didn't like the words he had to say.

"... 'I don't know how many I have killed. Or who they were.'" _That's just fucking great, _Morris mused.

Wolsey's face contorted at the short and direct answer. Morris couldn't tell if he didn't like it because it was so vile, or because it was said so plainly. "Why don't we make this more... organized." He suggested, a hand lifting to adjust his red velvet hat. "I will recite each Stricture, and you will confess actions you have taken against the practice up until this time of your life. Hm?" He tittered.

Corvo said nothing. Morris wished he knew how to curse at him in sign.

"I think that would be best!" Cromwell called from his pew.

"Good. Now..." Wolsey's wrinkles eased, his hands crossing upon his book as he considered the Serkonan carefully. "An Everyman knows to restrict his Wandering Gaze. What have you to confess?"

There was a pause. Corvo said nothing. Morris slowly turned wide eyes over the Serk's head at Cromwell who seemed to cringe and sink in the pew, while it became apparent that Corvo would not say anything at all.

Wolsey's face began to redden. "The Wandering Gaze is akin to greed and superficial wants. What have you to confess of wanting?"

Corvo hesitated before raising his hands once more. This time his expression was unsure and his steady gaze was instead staring at his own hands as they moved.

"...'A bed, clothes...'"

Wolsey sighed, his brows lifting and emphasizing the lines in his forehead. "I don't think you quite understand Corvo." He shook his head, looking frustrated.

Cromwell stood quickly, his hands clapping together to call attention from the High Overseer. "Might I suggest we have him simply recite the Strictures? Isn't it already unfair that this is all so public for our new Lord Protector?"

Wolsey turned a displeased expression on Cromwell. "I will not bend the Strictures for you Secretary."

Cromwell glared back, his thin face challenging the Overseer's round one. "I am not asking you to, but-"

"Ah- Corvo says-" Morris interrupted, watching the tanned hands move quickly.

"... 'I feel regret for not trying to live. To let live.'" Morris paused, and both Wolsey and Cromwell turned to watch the Serkonan's tight features and softened eyes. He looked at his own signing as he continued, "'I killed many without knowing why or who, for no coin, but because I was told to. I regret not stopping the new children. I regret accepting what was ordered of me because I was hungry.'"

Corvo's hands slowed as he seemed to consider his next words. The Abbey seemed immensely quiet now and Morris looked up briefly, catching Cromwell and Wolsey glancing at each other warily.

"...'my gaze did not wander at all. I did not question. I did not care. My tongue did not lie but it did not speak. My hands were not restless but they did not resist. My feet roved under command. I had no want for flesh but took it anyway. My errant mind was blank and my hunger fed so I could keep living without any want to. I regret.'"

The Abby stilled as Morris ended his translation, and Corvo's hands lowered to his sides, running his thumbs over his fingers. Morris swallowed, watching the Serkonan in the weight of the silence. He had known that Corvo was an assassin, of course, but...

"The Abbey accepts... all lost children into its doors so that these... discrepancies can be repented." Wolsey nodded. But his normal tone seemed shaky and he looked toward Morris in affirmation, not Corvo.

The rest of the small ordeal went smoothly enough. Captain Morris did not have to translate any further, and the Overseer recited all the Strictures in his sermon accepting the new soul into the Abbey. Cromwell coughed a few times during the speech as if to speed up the entire process.

They left the Abbey as quickly as they had come, and told Corvo that he would have the rest of the day off from training. He attended Commander Dalen's side anyway.

This was nearly it; one of the last things in Corvo's preparations before he was inducted as the new Royal Protector.

And not for the first time since the three had taken on the tutoring, Morris wondered on what it was that had led the Empress to such a decision with a man such as Corvo Attano.

* * *

_Note: Sorry for the late update! I was super busy last week! But I'm back on track with lengthier chapters. _

_I've been contemplating writing a companion piece to this story about my mute!Corvo during the actual gameplay. And his interactions with the Outsider and his memories. But I'm not sure if anyone would be interested._

Anyway, more to come! And don't worry - Corvo won't be using a translator much longer. He and Jessamine will get to have their own conversations soon enough, and we can all hear what's going on in that head of his!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter 13**

**Royal Protector**

Cromwell's tight leather shoes clicked loudly on the bleached stone as he made his way to the lower pavilion of the outside Tower.

It was tomorrow and no one was ready.

The inauguration for the new Lord Protector was tomorrow. Up until this point since Corvo's conversion into the Everyman he and the others had drilled him nonstop. They had gone over protocols within the job plenty of times. The week had been a montage of going over things he should have known had he been a fully trained Gristol officer. They went over the expected numbers for quota arrests, the amount of judges needed to permit seizing possessions, the monthly changes in schedule, and so on and so on. Not to mention all the ways in which to avoid offending anyone in court. The former had been Cromwell's focus and Corvo's flaws.

Corvo was trying though, even Cromwell could see that. But the man was addled. Not only in tongue but in society. He simply didn't know (or perhaps care) about the complexities of court life. Cromwell could only hope the interactions with nobility would not be frequent.

Technically, Corvo did not have to address anyone but the Empress, unless some major event caused him otherwise. But the Secretary worried about the _if's_ and _when's_. Should there ever be a need, he did not want to have to clean up the mess afterward.

Not to mention the Privy Council members were still trying to corner him in hallways and interrogate him about Her Majesty's lowly choice.

And now Corvo had gone missing.

It wasn't the first time since they had started preparations. At times they would simply not find him in his quarters and would consequently spend the first few hours looking for him. When he did show up on his own terms, he would explain he was on 'patrol' or some such nonsense. At first Cromwell had seriously doubted him. He assumed the man had wandered off for some time to dally, drink or smoke. But after the coming weeks and the obvious devotion Corvo had for commands given to him, the Secretary wondered if he did work overtime.

As admirable as that was, as Lord Protector it wasn't necessary.

And it was also annoying when Cromwell couldn't find him.

He stalked into the lower pavilion where the soldiers grouped for training during their time off patrol hours, giving an irritated expression as he scanned the area. A few of the guards noticed the Secretary with surprised and confused faces, but he ignored them, sticking up his nose and moving toward the outer training courtyard.

"Secretary." A voice called, "You look flustered." Cromwell turned with a dour expression to find Captain Morris leaning on a wall with a fat cigar locked in his teeth.

"Flustered! Captain I have been looking for you for an hour." He snapped, striding toward the man. "That I even had to come down to this rabble was flustering."

"For me? Why are you looking for me?"

"For Corvo! You two were supposed to be up in the library this morning!" Cromwell urged and glared when the Captain simply shrugged. The Secretary's hands gripped on his own jacket lapels to keep from strangling the Captain.

"The Commander took him around to show him the outer perimeter and the docks." Morris explained casually.

Of course he had.

If they had begun to get along after the first few days of training, they were absolutely chums together now. Corvo and the Commander seemed to think similarly in terms of security and separating the job from its more social responsibilities. Dalen's presence had never been abundant in society; the man had always opted for going 'above and beyond' by overseeing the security of court events instead of attending them like Protector Essen had. The influence of such thinking on Corvo was not lost on Cromwell. It would mean an even more foreign and less favorable Protector for the people and the Council.

Cromwell's frown increased. "And where are they now?"

"Well see," The Captain began, gripping the cigar out of his mouth and blowing a large cloud of smoke, making the Secretary's face wrinkle in distaste. "We were all talking about guns-"

"I don't care what you were talking about! Where are they? The inauguration is tomor-"

"I'm getting to it!" The Captain argued back with a frown, puffing one more time before smiling wryly in thought of the story. "We were talking about guns and Corvo made the argument that nothing could substitute being fast with a sword."

Morris ignored the deadpanned glare coming from the other man as he continued, "Which, in my opinion, is true. But the Commander argued that a faster aim could trump anything, especially when one has the advantage of distance. A fair point, I'd say."

When the Captain stopped and fidgeted his shoulder more comfortably on the wall, Cromwell raised his brows, waiting for him to continue. Morris noticed the Secretary staring and raised his own brows when he didn't seem to catch on. "So naturally, they made a bet!"

"What do you mean a bet?"

"I mean, Dalen bet that Corvo couldn't disarm a man with a gun under a certain distance." He explained tiredly.

"What do you mean disarm a gunned man!? He's going to order shots at the Royal Protector?"

Morris frowned at Cromwell. "Look, it's a man's bet." He explained as if it were obvious, rolling the cigar in his finger at the Secretary.

Cromwell fumed. His long and skinny body began to shake with contempt. "Must you thugs always find excuses to hit each other around like animals?"

"Don't worry so much Secretary, they'll be along in a moment to settle this. They went to grab dummy guns." He chuckled, brushing off the man's frantic expression.

"Dummy guns?"

"Wax bullets." He explained, the words jumbled around his cigar. Cromwell shifted haughtily next to the Captain, pointedly ignoring him and his cigar smoke as they waited. Soon enough, the Commander rounded the corner into the pavilion with Corvo behind him. A few of the other idling guards looked up at the sight and the Commander motioned a few forward.

The Secretary watched in apprehension as the Commander handed out the pistols in his grip to three of his soldiers. He directed them to stand a bit farther away towards the wall, saying fewer words of warning than Cromwell would have liked.

Dalen's expression was an obvious restrain of his excitement. Corvo himself looked composed and indifferent.

"Now, the bet is simple. Disarm each pistol from our fine men here, from a far starting distance, and you win." The Commander explained, loud enough for the entire pavilion to hear, drawing in the other soldiers from their benches and wooden tables as they relaxed.

"Men, be ready to uphold your training and stop Corvo from disarming you." He said toward the stationed soldiers.

"Commander please, this is not an opportunity for fisticuffs." Cromwell called out from the sidelines, stepping forward.

"It's a gun draw Secretary, not a fist fight. This is a gentleman's bet." The Commander corrected with a patronizing smile.

"Gentlemen don't use guns to settle their bets, they use money and politics." Cromwell said, crossing his arms and raising his chin with dignity.

"Corvo's askin' what we're betting for!" Morris interrupted loudly. And indeed, Corvo's hands had been raised to sign, fingers drifting in the air to match his perplexed expression. Cromwell groaned loudly.

"If you win, I'll buy you a drink. And if you lose, you get shot with wax." The Commander offered, his thin lips twisting up at his own jest.

Corvo began signing again.

"He says if he wins, he wants more guards posted on the south perimeter." Morris translated, chuckling at the request; one that had been some subject of disagreement for some time.

Dalen frowned in dissatisfaction, but his rigid shoulders didn't falter. "Alright Corvo. Deal." The commander moved to the side, giving Corvo enough room and distance between him and the other soldier at the wall. The other guards gathered around, chatting lowly as they watched. "Now, you can always change your mind Corvo. It's alright to admit that under these circumstances a gun is more effective than a sword or combat skill."

Corvo made no movement of his hands and the Commander crossed his arms, his shoulders shrugging lightly. "Well I gave you the chance."

"Commander Dalen this is absolutely gratuitous." Cromwell tried for the last time, taking his steps to the Commander's side to show him his upset expression. "I would have this ended at once!"

"Whenever you're ready Corvo."

There was a loud scuff of a boot and Cromwell barely turned around in time to watch Corvo lunge forward. The Serkonan man's body lurched with a sprinting speed that jolted everyone to immediate attention. The men began shouting instantly, yelling in support of Corvo or against him.

Cromwell's eyes widened as he watched in horror as Corvo bulleted toward the armed soldiers through the racket.

The first shot went off when he was halfway toward them. But if Corvo was hit, he didn't show it, nor did his speed slacken. The three men stationed in a line by the wall aimed their guns and began shooting collectively even as Corvo dove toward the middle. His body slid, legs bending beneath him as his left arm shot out low on the ground. He skidded on his knees before the middle guard and his hand snapped up, grasping the man's fists and the gun he held. He yanked hard and the man fell forward toward Corvo, who twisted up at the same time. Still gripping the man's hands he twisted them, pulling the guard's body around and holding it against his own as shield.

The two other soldiers stepped backward with wide faces, pointing their guns at Corvo and their comrade.

Seconds of a stalemate passed between the four of them. The guards eyed each other warily, before staring back into the struggling face of the hostage and Corvo's own calm dark eyes.

Another shot rang out, a ping of a wax bullet pelting the captive guard's shoulder. He yelled in pain and surprise when Corvo suddenly lifted him up by his arms and bent low, rolling the man's body over his back to the ground and taking the other two by surprise as his hand shot out to grab their uniforms and pull them toward himself. He yanked them about, whirling them around his body with his strength as they shot out wildly at the air before letting them go. Their body weight tipped them over, the momentum of Corvo's force spinning them into the stones of the ground like useless heaps.

But not before Corvo's deft hands ripped their guns from their own as they fell.

The skirmish ended with two pistols in the Serk's hands, pointing at the heads of the two soldiers and the other discarded across the ground.

The rabble and yelling of encouragement quieted when it ended and everyone turned to look on Commander Dalen, whose expression was as the Secretaries beside him. Captain Morris didn't seem to notice that his cigar was on the ground.

Dalen shifted, "W-well." He began, pulling together his trained disposition, eyeing Corvo's quiet and waiting expression.

Cromwell wondered at the twitch on Corvo's face and if the Serk was hiding his triumphant and knowing smile or if he was awaiting a command to kill the men for their uselessness.

"Well you can't argue about pistols and then end up with them as the advantage Corvo!" Dalen chided.

Corvo tossed the weapons to the ground and began signing.

Morris was too busy laughing in his surprise and mirth to translate, though, and the words Corvo was signing went unheeded. The disarmed men rose from the ground, complaining and dusting off their uniforms. Other guards came forward to help them and to whisper their astonishment.

"You should post those guards, Commander." Morris laughed, nudging Dalen in the shoulder.

"We should get back to work." The Commander suggested, avoiding the topic and turning to Cromwell. "I'm sure the Secretary has work for Corvo to do."

The tenseness of Corvo's demonstration lifted and the Secretary was thankful for it.

He nearly puffed his chest in defiance. "Yes, if you all are quite finished, the inauguration is tomorrow. Not that any of you seem to find it very important."

"Bah! Corvo's ready. We went over the whole thing already." Morris brushed off, patting Cromwell's back, who pushed the man's hand away dismissively. "The Herald does some talking, Corvo kneels, Her Majesty knights him, he escorts her down and greets all the well-to-do, and it's over with a much deserved drink. There's not much more we can prepare him for between now and tomorrow."

"Are you seriously suggesting that Corvo be presented to her Majesty like that?" Cromwell argued, his hands gesturing toward the tanned skin man.

Their gazes drew to Corvo as he approached the three of them. The Serkonan's brows quirked upward, frowning deeply as they scrutinized him. His hands unintentionally grasped at his own dirty and torn uniform, long dark hair brushing along a cheek that was smudged with dust from the squabble.

"He looks as if we pulled him from the sewers!" Cromwell huffed.

Corvo frowned.

"You have a point Secretary Cromwell." Dalen agreed, with Morris chuckling beside him.

* * *

The whispers of the court nobles were loud, considering they were whispering.

Commander Dalen cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from the hustle and bustle of the crowd below.

The majestic entrance of Dunwall Tower had been refit for a Royal Audience. Her Majesty's throne had been brought out to the plush landing of the grand staircase, its gilded gold arms contrasting brightly with the Kaldwin blue drapery beneath it, leading down the steps to the huge ground below.

The nobility all dabbled there, amassed to see the induction of the controversial Lord Protector.

He remembered Nicolai Essen's induction too, even if he had been much younger. It had seemed much smaller than this, even if the process had been the same. The Empress had been young as well and her advisers had guided her through the short ceremony. It had seemed lighthearted, easier, and hopeful. There hadn't been a tense air like there was now. And it had not been regarded as scandalous Almost none of the Privy Council had been present either, least of all any of the nobles.

But gossip and intrigue brewed crowds. Dalen sighed.

"Shh!" Cromwell hushed him and the Commander considered the small and paranoid fellow with another sigh.

He and the Secretary were stationed beside the empty throne on the landing, with the official Herald across from them, looking still as a statue. Morris stood beside the Herald, somehow looking bored and anxious at the same time.

Dalen realized that between the sea of faces below and the officials on the landing, Corvo was the only one who seemed calm.

The Serkonan was kneeling exactly where he should be; on the velvet cushion before the empty throne, awaiting Her Majesty.

Dalen noted the collected aura of him. A trait he had grown appreciative of over the last few weeks of training.

He had thought to oversee the guidance of the Serk, with the admitted hope of watching him fail. Even if he had been hopeful for taking the honor, he had not been expectant. There were other much more fit men to serve from Her Majesty's Royal Navy. Or ones whose parents did not still have strong sentiments against the Empire like his did.

But he hadn't been expecting Corvo. No one had. And the thought of being replaced by an incapable Serk had rubbed him the wrong way. But...

Instead, here they were, with the Commander feeling a sense of sympathy and camaraderie with the foreigner. Corvo was a good man. Dalen had learned that much. Maybe not good in a conventional way or a way regarding the strengths of a soldier. He had heard of Corvo's background, and he knew that the Serkonan wasn't a pure, honest man.

But he was devoted. Hardworking. And he seemed to be unfazed by all of Gristol's strange tendencies so long as he did his duty.

He had honor.

These were the things you couldn't teach a soldier.

No… he wouldn't mind taking orders from the man.

"Attention for the Empress of the Isles, Jessamine Kaldwin the first!" The Herald's voice abruptly boomed through the hall, and Morris jumped visibly at the sound.

The rabble below quieted and there was a collective shift as everyone including the Commander turned to watch the Empress descend from the second level in all her glory.

She was wearing her family's colors. Brilliant gold clasps aligning a teal bodice, with pale blue skirts enveloping her as she stepped down. It was rare to see the Empress so richly adorned in drapery. Normally their queen chose to represent Gristol's strength more than it's beauty, though she was always beautiful. Still, to see her traditionally garbed brought out a sense of pride in his job. This is what it all amounted to. Making sure she was there to carry the voice of their people.

Her chin was high and her hair drawn tightly up as always, with her strong gaze cast out along the crowds. A true monarch's authority in her eyes and grace in her steps.

She was lovely.

Dalen bowed his head low in humbled politeness as she drew nearer, listening instead to the rustle of her skirts as she passed them by. A few of the Royal guard followed her, stationing themselves at her side just as he had instructed them to do hours before.

Dalen watched as she ignored Corvo completely, seating herself formally at her rightful chair.

It wasn't until she nodded at the Herald to continue that her light eyes looked down at the kneeling mute at her feet.

**…**

She almost didn't recognize him.

The Herald snapped his feet, turning out to the crowd. He began announcing the event; informing the court of import the day and the man being presented to the Empress and all of Gristol as their new Protector.

Her fingers curled in the familiar groves of the armrests and slowly she used her her experience e to drown out sound of the decree and the view of the staring faces from below.

Jessamine still couldn't quite see Corvo fully at this angle. His head was too low and his gaze was on the ends of her large dress.

They had put him in uniform.

It wasn't a uniform she recognized. Essen had worn a brighter blue aligned with red, something louder and more regal.

This navy blue wool looked freshly tailored, with bright gold trim shining in the light and buttons lining down his chest. It was dark in contrast to the white marble and blue carpet of her stairs, and his rigid form cut her vision sharply. It suited him. His hair was slicked back too, drawn tight in a tail on the back of his neck, exposing his smooth forehead and rough cheeks for the first time.

She hadn't seen him in nearly a month. Long before she had even considered him for the place he was now at. Not since she had spoken quietly to his silence and they had shared a moment of small gestures in her hall. She remembered his attentive nature then as much as she did during his time protecting her in Serkonos.

And not for the first time that day she wondered at his thoughts on the matter. On all this.

On anything at all.

But the Serkonan looked at ease before her, from what she could see. With his shoulder's loose and his fingers curly lightly on his bent knee.

The Herald's sudden silence called her attention back to the crowd.

"The Court and Council bear witness to the rise of Corvo Attano." The Herald boomed.

Jessamine could feel the eyes boring into her from below, the mass of arranged nobles staring up at her seated form.

But their faces were blocked by Corvo. His broad shoulders were a wall of navy standing between her and them. It softened the nerves she might have had otherwise.

She stood and Commander Dalen stepped forward with her, presenting a military rapier to her in a humble bow. Her hands grasped the cool metal hilt, pulling the shiny blade from its ornamental sheath easily.

It was light, lighter than she remembered it being from other knighthoods she had directed.

She kept her eyes on Corvo's drawn shoulders instead of the loud silence emanating from the crowd below. Her hand outstretched tautly, the metal lowering delicately on his left shoulder before moving swiftly above his head to the other.

The act was 'a show of violence held in restraint because of utter respect.' As her father had once explained. 'It meant to hold one's life in their complete authority.' It was about trust. And she realized that if Corvo had been nothing more than gifted property as Serkonos had intended, now he was property sworn to her until the day she died.

When she finished, the sword was handed off again and Dalen retreated as Cromwell stepped forward.

"Rise Lord Attano, Royal Protector." She spoke, her own voice lifted to address him and the crowd.

She stilled in surprise as he stood, his tall form looming above her just like she remembered.

But he was clean-shaven. And his hair was pulled back so tightly that she could see every inch of his face. His eyes connected with hers immediately, as they always had. The familiar surprise of it made her pause and absorb his expression, and she felt her shoulders ease unconsciously at the sight of it.

He looked determined. His lips were even and straight, matching his dark and focused eyes. As if she had finally given him commands he was sworn to carry. The expression was something like what she had seen on his face when they had been in Serkonos. When Gallows men had chased her life and blood had smeared his hands

_S-A-F-E_. She remembered; the letters drawn softly into her palm.

Cromwell's hands outstretched beside her, presenting her with the Kaldwin family crest to be pinned on his uniform.

She took the brooch and stepped forward, breaking her gaze to look to his lapel instead. He seemed to go rigid as she neared, fingers landing on the soft new wool of his coat. The ornamentation was heavy on her fingertips, and she tried to focus her eyes only on the familiar swans within the crest as she fiddled with the clasp in the back of it.

Jessamine could feel Corvo staring above her head, the shuffling of the officials at her side and an entire audience of royals waiting below. The moment seemed to drag as her nails kept slipping along the needle. Her teeth clenched, and Corvo's chin twitched above her as if to check on her trouble.

The needle slipped once more and when the sharp end pricked her tender fingertip, her shoulder flinched. Corvo's hand raised beside her hesitantly, as if to aid her, but the sharp point slipped into its notched back and her fingers pulled away.

"I am honored to instate you Lord Attano, and look forward to your dedicated service." She spoke neatly, taking the chance to exhale her nerves at the interaction. Her hands folded delicately, squeezing the inane throbbing in her finger. She tried to smile reassuringly at him.

Corvo's eyes considered her and the moment passed a bit longer than she expected.

He was supposed to bow.

Cromwell coughed loudly and the Commander shifted noticeably.

He didn't.

Jessamine glanced away, weighing on whether she should whisper to him direction. She caught the Herald standing confusedly.

When Corvo still made no move, she reached out her hand to him instead, jumping past the mix-up completely. Thankfully, The Herald caught on and shouted for dismissal and the crowd below began to part.

Corvo seemed to trigger himself into motion at the sight of her hand, and she knew she had to thank her Secretary for tutoring the man in the process of this whole tradition.

He took her hand gently, letting her curl her fingers on his as he stepped her down each step to the crowd. Jessamine focused on the shifting skirts of her dress on the steps instead of his face.

And now came the hard part. They paused at the bottom step and the many faces of the Court stared back at them evenly.

"Presenting her Majesty and the Royal Protector."

The crowd burst into applause and Jessamine forced herself not to think of the whispers happening behind each set of hands.

She gave her best demure smile and it began.

* * *

"A pleasure Majesty, and congratulations Lord Protector."

Jessamine tried to keep her smile up as she nodded to one of her Judges, his thick hand coming forward to shake Corvo's.

"You have been quite the buzz around Court lately Corvo, it's nice to put a face to a name." The Judge chuckled heavily, his large face scrutinizing the Serkonan with beady eyes. He tried to laugh more heartily, but Corvo made no notion to laugh with him. The judge hummed quietly.

"I look forward to your lecture next week." Jessamine distracted. "I am told it is to be of Academy caliber."

"Oh, yes, yes." He obliged, immediately turning his attention to the Empress instead. From the corner of her eye, she watched Corvo's shoulder ease. "I am sure you will find the topic interesting Majesty, it's to do with our judicial system in relation to its history and our change in morality through this age."

"Invigorating." She replied, nodding curtly. The man excused himself sometime after, but the rest of the hour went much the same.

The Court did not seem to know what to make of their new Lord Protector. Jessamine could feel the whispers blaring around her. Mute. _Foreign. Low-class. Disreputable background._

Rumor would already begin stirring tomorrow about a harsh and undignified Empress, hiring an assassin to kill off her court like a pirate lord. Their noses were all raised particularly high today, she could hear it through their gay smiles and drawling praises. Especially when their teeth grit with false praise as they shook his hand.

Perhaps the interactions that hurt the most were the other officers and military men. The uniformed Sirs did not smile much, nor did they even remember to say congratulations when they greeted the new Lord. It was a tense air she didn't care for.

Corvo himself seemed more and more apprehensive as the hour dragged on. His rigid stance never faltered, but she caught his fingers curling and unfurling at his sides often, while his eyes gazed quickly around the hall with worried brows. She didn't blame him. The poor Serkonan probably wanted to be alone rather than center stage in a room full of bustling, insulting high-class.

She felt much the same actually, and a bit envious that he did not have to carry on conversing with them.

She had already dismissed his translator, Morris, to save him from having to sign to them.

And when the time came that she herself could take no more, she waved for her Herald to announce her dismissal.

The crowd one more applauded before the line dispersed to greet her, and instead they mingled on the marble.

Jessamine cast her eyes directly at Corvo's own gaze for the first time in the hour.

She longed to speak with him in private. She wanted to reassure him, or herself, about his position. She wanted to aid him in any questions that her Secretary may not have been able to answer. But she repressed the desire. The want to give her poor new Protector the reprieve he no doubt longed for was greater than her own.

So instead she gave her last, actual genuine, smile and curtsied at her knees formally. "Congratulations Corvo. I hope the rest of the evening will be nothing but praise for you."

Corvo's dark brows furrowed in confusion at the statement, but his hands rose quickly to return the gesture in his own way.

_Thank you, your Majesty._

Her smile widened further, chin ducking. "I wish to speak again soon, before your duties begin to take up your time and it is another sad month before we exchange words."

Corvo's hands rose, hesitating in the air before falling to his sides. She watched his jaw work worriedly, wondering if was going to protest at something.

He seemed to look distractedly over her head before looking out about the crowd; searching for something or someone.

Jessamine took his distraction as a good time to part, pulling herself away before she was tempted to drag the man for a much-needed conversation. No, there would be plenty of time for that now that he was her Lord Protector.

She turned away, heading up the stairs to retire.

**…**

When Cromwell saw the Serkonan begin to follow the Empress up the first few steps he bolted forward, grasping the man's shoulder. "No-No- you've been dismissed." He hushed quietly. He steered him away with a bit of trouble, trying to laugh off the frightening sight of Corvo's glaring eyes. The man did not look pleased, but he walked through the crowd with the Secretary anyway.

He was signing quickly, and Cromwell sighed tiredly at the sight. The damned man knew he couldn't understand. "Where is that blasted Captain?" He wondered out loud. "And don't look at me like that. I'm not the one who forgot to bow today." He chided and then began again, "Where's Morris? We still have a lot to do, newly instated or not."

As the Royal Secretary fluttered his arms about the crowd searching for the Captain, Corvo watched the Empress ascend the stairs to her quarters, accompanied by her matron and a pair of guards.

He watched until she couldn't be seen anymore, his thumb running across his fingers in his ever silent contemplation.

* * *

_Note: Thanks to the reviewer last week who suggested I write out the story behind the "I was saw him take out three armed men in training. He was like a whirlwind!"_

_In case anyone's interested, I'll be posting this story up at Archive of our Own too. Just in case any of you prefer reading over there._


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Things to Come**

The Royal Protector's quarters were on the same floor of the Tower that the Empress's own quarters were. It was across one large main hall, adjacent to the portrait gallery. This was due to the time the position had been first instated, back during a time when unrest and war threatened the monarchy. Back then the Lord Protector had been a figurehead of safety and security.

But that was also during a time when the Spymaster's position had been a confidential one. And now that figurehead of safety and security for the public had been passed to him, Hiram Burrows.

The former Lord Protector Essen had forgone these quarters and had lived in his own inherited estate instead. It had been the proper thing to do. But now that man had been replaced and his successor was not wealthy enough to have his own suitable estate.

So here they were.

His thumbs curled into the lapels of his coat, fingering the gold trim as he and one of his own men followed a Royal guard down the hall toward the quarters in question. His agent bumbled behind him, carrying a large weighted object. They approached the large double doors and the guard looked back questioningly at the Spymaster who glared harshly at him.

"Knock on the door then, boy."

"Lord Spymaster, it's barely dawn, Lord Attano was only instated yesterday-"

"Did you not hear me?" He demanded again, his lip curling around the words angrily.

The guard's uneasy expression only grew, but nonetheless his fist raised and knocked timidly on the door. It barely made a sound. Hiram scoffed loudly at the action and motioned dismissively at the useless guard. "Go back to your post. If you cannot do your job correctly then you shan't have the privilege to do it at all."

"My Lord I am ordered to-"

The large silver doorknob clanked and one of the doors creaked open slowly. The dim light from the hallway streamed inside the dark quarters and highlighted the occupant's confused and wary expression.

"Lord Protector, excuse the disturbance but... the Royal Spymaster is here to see you." The guard said, looking at the floor in discomfort as he explained. The Serkonan's face drew further in puzzlement, his dark brows furrowed as he looked from the guard to Hiram Burrows, and to the agent behind holding the large covered parcel.

"Lord Attano, I presume." Hiram began, his hand flicking out at the guard's shoulder to dismiss him. The man backed away quickly and Hiram was suddenly directly before the open door. "I have come to give congratulations to your rise in position." Hiram smiled. His thin lips stretched across his gritted teeth, making the sharpness of his nose more prominent. His voice was loud in the quiet morning of the dark hall. Loud and piercing. "I wasn't at your inauguration yesterday, I'm afraid." He continued, a hand shooting out to clasp the other doorknob, clicking the other closed door open to give him full access to the room.

Burrows strode inside the Royal Protector's quarters, not acknowledging the man's agitated and baffled expression.

"Ah! I see you're making yourself at home." Burrows chimed, his smile faltering in distraction as he looked about the space. It was hardly moved into. Everything was exactly untouched and unused, as it had been before the Serkonan had even been a thought in the Empress's head. There was no sight of unpacked luggage or strewn clothes. Granted, Corvo had only been instated yesterday afternoon and it was only dawn. But even the bed looked un-slept in, with nothing but a knapsack and a captain's hat lying on its sheets. "The quarters are lovely aren't they?"

He turned his tight and forceful smile back on the Serkonan, who seemed to be the uncomfortable one in his own quarters. Corvo shifted on his feet, his narrowed eyes pinning the Royal Spymaster with questions. His hands raised, and his fingers began to twirl and sign.

Hiram pretended not to see the action, turning away to his own accompanied soldier and motioned him inside. "I have a gift for you Lord Protector."

The agent strode in, his arms heaving the large object. The black velvet cover upon it shifted as he set it down with some difficulty on the writing desk. It clanked obnoxiously.

He watched with a thin, pleasured smile and Hiram could see Corvo signing continually out of the corner of his eyes. He continued to ignore him. He would not give the disabled man the satisfaction of sinking so low, nor was the weakness his problem.

This was not a meeting of pleasantries, after all.

Hiram Burrows was here to make things quite clear between him and the new Lord Protector. Such things were not necessary between him and Nicolai Essen, but then again Essen had not been something to be concerned about.

When the Serk had been announced a near month ago, Hiram wasn't exactly surprised. He hardly ever understood what sort of thoughts ran rampant in their dear Majesty's head already, so trying to understand what made her make such preposterous decisions as these was pointless.

To say the man was unfit for office was obvious. And Hiram's growing distaste for the situation was intensified when he learned of the Serk's addled tongue.

A Gallows man. The thought would have been laughable if it was not already worrying. Her Majesty had always been much too trustworthy. She threw her faith in directions that risked the state of the Kingdom. Something Hiram could not sit well with.

But patience was the key. A situation like this would only run itself dry. A careful nudge or two in the right direction and things would fall into place as they should. It would only be a matter of time before Corvo Attano ran out his own time and the Empress came to her senses to send him back to the heated islands of Serkonos.

That he was most sure of.

"I'm sure this will be quite useful to you Corvo. I may call you Corvo, yes?" He inquired, his brows lifting with the inflection of his voice as he gestured to the thing.

Corvo signed and Hiram lifted his chin with a tighter smile. He ignored him even as he looked him in the eyes. "Splendid."

The Serkonan's expression darkened instantly at the obvious intent in the Spymasters own gaze.

Corvo seemed to suddenly understand the intrusion, his hands lowering to fist gently at his sides. The two men shared their glares, Corvo's dark one accusatory and Hiram's carefully ignorant between his smile.

When Corvo intently stepped forward, Burrows decided to take his leave. He stepped away, lifting a hand to consider his clean and clipped fingernails.

"I wish you the very best in your duties to come." His hands gestured regally at him, almost mockingly. An afterthought. "Goodness knows that our dear Empress needs all the security she can receive in such hectic times." He motioned impatiently to his agent, and followed him to the door.

Corvo continued to pin his narrowed eyes on the reedy Spymaster. He followed him out, hand gripping the thick door to close it after him.

"And just keep in mind Corvo, that if you ever need aid, I am more than willing to extend it." Hiram nodded, hands crossing behind him and shoulders drawing tight. "The Spymaster has been a position long before the Lord Protector ever was. So I know may have a further reach to help benefit you."

Corvo said nothing, nor did he try to sign. His shaded gaze was a shadow of warning, one that didn't need to be spoken between either man.

"Good day." Hiram didn't bow, nor did he wait for such trivialities from the Serkonan. He turned on his heel with a snap, and he and his agent left.

Corvo clicked the door harshly on itself, locking it with a snap and retreating back into the room.

The dawn light was beginning to slither into the lush quarters behind the curtains and while he looked at his bed contemplatively, instead he strode to the writing desk.

The large object sat with a looming form on the wood, the black velvet cover hiding the bulkiness of his 'gift.' With a sharp yank, the velvet fell away to reveal shiny green and black metal, glinting in the in dimness. It looked brand new and freshly polished.

It was an audiograph.

* * *

Clara snapped the white linen sharply in the air, pulling the small dining sheet taut before meeting the corners together and folding it on her chest.

The tension in the air that had been stirring for months had finally seemed to dissipate after yesterday's ceremony. She had felt it ease away even as she had readied the Empress for her sign lesson early in the morning, and even more so hours after when she had set brunch.

They had returned to having light conversations today. Jessamine had inquired about frivolities such as fashion and weather for the first time since she had left for Serkonos. Clara had been happy to hear it, and was glad for the return to somewhat normality.

It pleased her to see the woman take even small comforts between her responsibilities to the crown.

Her hands stacked the napkins on the dining sheet with a jovial lightness of the bright mid-morning. She arranged the dirty plates and cups along the silver tray, intent on whisking them away so she could more quickly return to fetch whatever the Empress may need during her hour at the office.

As she hoisted the tray to her balanced hand, there was a knock on the sitting room door.

Clara frowned and paused hesitantly. There weren't any audiences that she knew of scheduled for today.

She set the tray back down worriedly, before heading toward the door and opening it fully.

"Lord Protector."

She curtsied immediately, lifting her head after she did so to look on the man's stern face.

She recognized him instantly. Though recognizing Corvo Attano was not hard to do, when no other Serkonan occupied the Tower. Not to mention the man had striking features; a prominent brow and jaw, with sharp dark cheeks and an austere set of lips. Thankfully, he looked much more like the Officer she saw promoted yesterday than the ruffian she had remembered the night he had appeared with Jessamine back in Serkonos.

"May I help you, my Lord?" She asked a bit timidly. He was a relatively tall man, something she had not noticed from far away. Perhaps not as tall as Commander Dalen, even if it felt like it with him standing directly in front of her.

Corvo said nothing, standing like a statue that had been carved from bronzed marble and placed before the door.

Clara suddenly realized her blunder. How was she expecting him to answer her? Her nerves suddenly racked as she realized she may have to sign, or read his. She had been tutored, as Jessamine had ordered. But should she not be able to keep up? Or what if she made a mistake?

She looked up a bit worriedly, glancing at the man to see if he was attempting to answer. Corvo's brows drew together, his cheek shifting as his jaw worked beneath his closed mouth. His eyes, on the other hand, were not even looking at her. They searched beyond the Matron's short head to the empty sitting room beyond.

"The Empress has retired to her office for work." She informed when she noticed where his attentions lied. "Shall I announce your presence?"

Corvo's eyes found hers again and Clara looked away intently. The dark man was slightly more intimidating than she remembered, despite his unassuming expression. Perhaps it was the regal-ness of his form in the new uniform. Or maybe it was the unintentional silence.

She saw him nod above her though, and moved so the man could enter.

He didn't stride in like the Secretary or other official's often did. Nor did he march so, like the Commander or the guards.

No, Corvo walked in slowly and deliberately, his eyes tracing the room entirely, a quiet and candid interest crossing his features as he took in the room. He looked more at ease in the quaint room, coming to stand by the unoccupied tea table and it's left over dishes from brunch. The light streaming in from the open windows made his uniform appear bluer than it did black and the change allowed Clara to appreciate his appearance free from his intimidating presence.

"Just a moment my Lord, I'll announce you."

Corvo turned to nod sharply at her and she nearly froze as his hands rose, but he seemed to abandon the gesture, hands dropping to his side. Clara took the action as nervousness more than protest and quickly made her way to the adjacent doors. She knocked briefly before opening it.

The office inside was much darker than the bright and easy sitting room. The curtains were drawn from the nice weather's distraction and there were no noises of the wind and river through the shut windows.

Jessamine was scrawling upon a parchment before looking up at the entrance, an obvious wary expression at having been interrupted.

"Forgive me, Majesty, but the Lord Protector is here to see you."

The pen in her hands dropped to the paper distractedly and Jessamine made to stand. "Corvo?" She questioned, thin brows drawing together and her hand smoothing her blouse.

"Yes Ma'am. Shall I tell him to make an appointed audience instead?"

"No, no." Jessamine hurried with a shake of her head, leaving her desk and coming out to meet her matron. "I will meet with him."

Clara felt the anxiety from before come back. But this time it felt more timid than before. She smiled easily at her Madam as if to subtle help ease any of the woman's uneasiness.

Jessamine shared the smile, but said nothing. She flicked her chin toward the door and Clara took the dismissal, pulling the door wider to allow her Majesty entrance. She closed the office gently once more and turned to watch as Jessamine strode in toward the Lord with the trained grace she was known for.

While her regal face and posture was restrained and calm in her authority, Clara recognized the trademark nervous purse of her lips, and the curling of her fingers.

The Lord Protector turned at the sound of them and his head immediately lowered with his form as he bowed. Clara's brows rose as he even went to one knee, his once intimidating from reducing to a humble form on the plush carpet. Jessamine seemed surprised as well, frowning at the extreme formality of the action.

The awkward silence grew within the once cheery room until the Empress cleared her throat pointedly and glanced at Clara.

"Excuse me!" Clara immediately announced, embarrassed at her lack of dismissal. She curtsied quickly and crossed the room to leave her Queen and the Lord in private.

Jessamine watched the Matron's petite form disappear and the door close with a click after her. She turned her attention back on the Royal Protector at her feet with a frown, shifting rigidly in her own stance.

"Corvo, please, there's no need for such formality any longer." She hushed.

She almost regretted saying it when he stood, catching his direct gaze with hers. How could she forget that intensity?

She let her features ease beneath it anyway, forcing reassurance even as his expression faltered into a wary apprehension.

They were quiet, both gazing at each other's faces as if waiting for indication for the other to speak. She wondered if he came to make better acquaintance with her. Or maybe he came to see to his new duties, or ask her about specific requests he needed to better suit his position.

She swallowed. Maybe he came to insist on his retreat from the burden she had thrown at him.

"Please, sit." She gestured, indicating the empty chairs beside the tea table.

Corvo glanced distractedly at the furniture, his hands fisting at his sides. But he didn't move.

When it was apparent that he would not, she shifted uneasily and tried to move on, taking initiative.

"I'm glad for your timing." She began for him, breaking the strange pause between them. "I know the past few weeks for you must have been... strenuous. There was little time for us to speak to one another." She smiled gently at his reserved expression. "I had hoped that the process would be easier for you. I know that much has changed since you've been assigned to my service from Lord Rossini. It… wasn't fair of me to move you about so incessantly."

Jessamine's fingers twined together and she waited for a few seconds to see if he would speak.

She glanced at his idle hands and continued when he didn't. "My Secretary has reassured me that he and the Commander have informed you of all your new responsibilities." She looked away, taking a few steps toward the open window to gaze out to the calm and scenic view. "And I am confident myself that you can perform them impressively."

She heard him shift behind her and turned to smile at him again. "Your devotion to my commands and your insight into this position is what makes me so sure."

Corvo followed her steps to draw nearer and the glare on his face from the sun made his dark eyes appear very light. A near golden. But his tightly drawn brows and clenched jaw did not ease and she frowned worriedly at his look.

"I know it may seem there is a lot to be done." She began, looking away once more. The one-sided conversation made her very much aware of the sound of her own voice filling the space between them like a broken dam. "I have made it clear to the Commander and your… Captain Morris, as I recall? I have made it clear to them both that they are to assist you in any way possible. Cromwell included, since he is familiar with all duties assigned to the positions as court."

"I want everything to be simple for you. Feel free to direct them to your desire, I am sure they will heed your orders well and if they do not, then I can find suitable replacements."

Those golden brown eyes were tracing her face with that same vexed look.

"Please, Corvo." She began. "I wish to hear whatever thoughts or words you may have." She urged. His normally collected and determined presence shaded by this new anxious one was making her self-conscious. Had he come with complaints? Was he upset and spiteful to her for giving him such a heavy position? "I want you to understand that in my presence you are free to speak your mind."

Corvo began to shake his head slowly with an even more down turned expression.

Jessamine hurried to encourage him again. "You are Royal Protector now. And as such you need no consent to do or say what you think is best." She pursed her lips in thought. "You must know... that no other has authority over your own. And I only expect reports from your decisions, not permission to make them. I trust you to carry out whatever you deem necessary for your duty."

Corvo nodded quietly as she stopped; some, but not all of his anxiousness easing away.

"I also hope that I could come to rely on your words and judgment personally, Corvo." She urged again, peering at his direct gaze with a subtle hint. "And hear your opinions."

The confusion was back and his hands finally raised with a snap, grasping at the air pointedly at her before dropping. The act was such a vehemently contained reaction that Jessamine placed a hand on her abdomen in surprise. Corvo looked away from her, lips parting as he glared about the room.

And that's when it dawned on her. "Has... my Secretary not informed you?" She questioned slowly. The inquiry grabbed his attention again and Jessamine slowly raised her own hands, fingers unsteadily moving along with her next words. "I...would...speak...with you."

The movements were a little shaky, and she felt her cheeks flush a little at finally using the skill for the direct purpose she had learned it for. Corvo's eyes traced the gestures, an intense focus in his face as he watched her fingers move. His shoulders fell away and his eyes seemed to take in the action little by little before snapping back to her face. His lips moved as his brows lifted and she almost believed he would actually speak out loud in his surprise.

They gazed at each other for bare seconds as she lowered her hands. And she wondered briefly if she had made a mistake in one of the motions.

His hands rose slowly, and began their quiet trace of the language, delicate and slightly unsure.

_'You know how to sign?'_

Jessamine glanced to the ground before them, pushing away at her nervous smile. "I would think it irresponsible not to learn how to speak with my new Lord Protector."

Corvo took a quick step toward her, making her jerk in attention. His hands rose, snapping at his forehead and mouth quickly.

_'I was not told.'_

"It must have slipped Cromwell's mind between his rambling of office procedure." She chuckled wryly, Corvo's own expression lightened. "I would only ask that you are... slow with me. I must admit that the more complex vocabulary escapes me. And my own fingers ache with letter spelling." She raised her chin in her honest guilt of inadequacy. "It has only been a few weeks of lessons."

_'It takes time.'_

"And more patience than an Empress can hold, I'm afraid." She chuckled again, catching his quickly relaxing expression. She watched in reserved joy as the corner of his mouth twitched and his eyes creased. He didn't have to watch his own hands as they moved. He was meticulously and deliberately measured for her. His fingers curled with stern calculation and the transitions between signs and letters were even more careful than Madame Bonet's tutoring hands were.

In her mind, it felt like his voice was pleasingly quiet. Like a chuckled statement beneath his breath.

_'You do not have to spell letters for me. You need only read mine.'_

"Then you are a savior to my fingers, Lord Attano." She laughed thankfully, letting her smile widen.

The air in the room felt weightless as they shared a relaxed and comforting pause. The sharp constraint of worry within her was gone, and she could hear his voice within her head for the first time since he had guided her through the darkened tunnel in Serkonos. He looked more reassured himself, with the muscles of his face laced into a thoughtful expression.

She was thankful his hair was still pulled back as it had been the day before, so she could fully appreciate the look of him. Seeing him so calm, in his new uniform and standing casually in her sitting room as if he had belonged, made her realize again that the choice she had made was not one to be regretted.

At least, not now.

"My statement still stands. I want you to know where your authority lies. I know the promotion was quite sudden… and I know that this position was not what Lord Rossini assigned for you."

_'He assigned me to be your Hand.'_

Jessamine frowned timidly. "I... understand. But that is not a position common within Gristol society. It should be clear that I have no need for... such extents of service." she said, wanting to make it known that she did not want bloodshed in her name. She didn't want to offend him though, nor did she want to impolitely bring up the act of murdering others. "Serkonos may have traditions of…assassin jobs-"

_'A Hand is not an assassin.'_ He interrupted, his brows drawn with shake of his head. _'A Hand is what a Lord wants it to be. A part of your own hand itself. I am to do whatever you demand.'_

Corvo paused, his fingers hesitating with preconceived thoughts and an honest hard look before continuing.

_'Rossini had me kill often. But I will only kill if you ask it of me.'_

Jessamine nodded slowly at the explanation, waiting quietly as the larger words were carefully spelled out for her to understand.

"I see. Well, 'Lord Protector' makes it more official in Dunwall, then. So I suppose you have been finally placed where you were intended to be." She carefully chose to avoid his second statement.

Corvo paused at that. His face relaxed at the corners of his eyes and he nodded.

_'Thank you, Your Majesty.'_

Jessamine smiled at the combined gesture. The signs were more familiar than any other, and she felt an inkling of intimacy to them that made her look on him fondly as he presented the touch of his mouth to her and then measured his heart to his pocket.

_'I will be honored to carry out your orders.'_

She glanced at the floor at his humility. The effect made her humble. She was not used to such rare cases of genuine speech within her own court. "I too, look forward to having you at my side."

She cleared her throat distractedly.

"Was there something in particular you wished to speak with me about?" She finally inquired, leaning the conversation to a more formal nature. "I don't want to distract you from any issues you might have with me."

She sighed with slightly heaved shoulders before letting him answer. "I know it's been a struggle. And I apologize for the long process and the reports I received about some of the protocols you've been through. If there is anything at all you had concern with or need me to attend to, please feel free to let me know." Her expression became assertive once more. "I will not have you thinking you do not have the authority or my extreme influence to act out your rightful position."

When he didn't interrupt, Jessamine nervously twisted her fingers before ending with, "Is there anything you'd like to concern me with?"

Corvo seemed to consider her words carefully and she watched as his thoughtful and troubled expression slowly eased into a contented gaze at her. He shook his head, a shadow of a quirked smile in his eyes.

_'Not anymore.'_

The quiet answer passed that comfort into her and they shared another air of understanding together.

Staring into a gaze that met hers equally and yet cast humbly from the stance of a loyal Protector, Jessamine realized that this was a company she could finally depend on.

She allowed herself the stray thought of hope.

A hope for another she could come to confide in.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen **

**Two Months Time**

The Empress pushed the report away from her, delicate fingers barely touching the parchment as she looked distractedly away from her Secretary. "Take it to the Commander."

"Majesty, this is the third time you've refused to address the issue." Cromwell urged, his own hand persistently holding out the offensive document toward her. He put his best upset expression on, which wasn't hard considering he was in fact upset. "I can't keep running about positions that aren't mine to fix your Lord Protector's messes."

Jessamine turned to glare at him, her pale eyes narrowing darkly at the blunt and pointed comment. But her shoulders were drawn and her fingers tensed around the quill.

Cromwell bowed his head in acquiescence but his irritable demeanor didn't change. "My apologies… that was uncalled for. But it is time to do something about all of this!"

The Empress deflated slightly, her eyes looking away from him and the document to look out the window of her office.

Things were not going well.

It was a full two months since Corvo's instatement into Royal Protector title and the change was not... smooth.

Parliament did not approve. But that had been something Jessamine had anticipated. She had prepared herself for the dubious looks and slander, the votes against her from spite, and the anger toward her military faction in general. Every session with her Privy Council had been a long one. Long and full of uncooperative men who wanted to show their displeasure with each issue at hand.

She could handle the angry politicians and irate judges. Their fits were inane and inconvenient, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before they found some other issue to exercise their hate on.

Besides, many of them did not want to displease her so much that she might make another wild decision without their advice again, which had cause this entire situation in the first place.

She had also known that Court would be a nightmare. And it most certainly was.

Corvo had no standing. He wasn't old wealth and he wasn't new money. He wasn't a prodigy of any kind that they cared for, nor was he from a foreign isle that they appreciated for its exotic mystery. Perhaps if he had been an academic man from Tyvia, they would be accepting, simply for the intrigue and controversy. They nobles liked the drama to spice their parties. But no, instead the court had receded all their financial support from the military. They gossiped, outwardly disrespected her guardsmen, and manipulated the members of Parliament with their hold on reputations and pockets.

These were not things Jessamine was unused to. Perhaps it was all a bit overwhelming with both her court and council attacking her at the same time... but it was still nothing more than something an Empress had to wait stubbornly through.

But what she hadn't prepared for was Corvo.

Jessamine leaned toward her Secretary and took the document in his hand with a sigh. "What's happened now, then?" She asked tiredly, her thumb sliding against the wax seal.

"The Lord Protector has fired twenty-eight of your men." Cromwell stated, hand gripping his tired face as he leaned into his leather chair, happy to at least hand the bad news away.

"What?" Jessamine snapped, staring at him with a highly concerned look before hurriedly opening the parchment. It was a petition. A list of names was drawn down the page of those who had been, 'unfairly discharged.'

"For what reason?" She questioned as she read.

Cromwell scoffed. "Does it matter? They could have all been stealing coin from your very pocket and their nobility would still feel it was unjust."

That much was true. The seals of the men's families were from houses she recognized. It wasn't uncommon to have court relatives within her Royal Guard.

Apparently, Corvo had successfully angered a handful of them in one sweep.

"He had assessment tests at the beginning of the month." Cromwell began to explain. "He told me he just wanted to evaluate the guard. Then he went and fired most of them."

"And the Commander?"

Cromwell tried not to laugh at the suggestion. "Commander Dalen is absolutely thrilled, of course!" He huffed, his fingers preening at his jacket. The Secretary was looking more and more flustered each time she saw him and she could only imagine him scrambling between everyone wanting to rely their messages through him. "I tried to reason with him but he's in full support of our new Protector. He says that the men fired were not exemplary and Corvo was making decisions he wished he had, if he didn't have a reputation to loose."

Jessamine looked down the list of names thoughtfully. "There are first sons of old houses listed here..."

Cromwell hummed. "I don't have any doubt that they weren't... good soldiers. But..."

"Twenty-eight of them?" She questioned again.

"Are you surprised after the incident last month?" He questioned. Jessamine shook her head, letting the petition fall to her desk.

The month prior a riot had broken out on the Waterlock. It had involved a few citizens as well as a few soldiers, with a few injuries reported. There had been an apparent disagreement with those trying to deliver goods into the Tower that had been denied, and words had been exchanged. Jessamine didn't know the extent of the situation... but she knew Corvo had been present at the time.

There were other things too: small complaints. The courts were furious when Corvo accepted no dinners in his honor. The Parliament members would not be received by him, and almost no one could gain an audience with the man. His own soldiers had spoken of difficulties following the command of a man who spoke through a translator. That in itself wouldn't be too much of an issue for concern... but on top of everything else against him as well as Corvo's own drastic behavior...

Jessamine was beginning to doubt her support of him.

She was beginning to wonder if the sacrifices and issues raised were worth her comfort of having his loyalty and devotion.

"I... have also received message from the High Overseer." Cromwell began, gaining another wary look from his Empress. "The… Abbey has not been turning in their quarterly reports on their arrests for treason."

Jessamine's fingers gently splayed on her desk, gathering her tolerance for such a proclamation. "This is because of Corvo?"

"They say they do not trust the new Lord Protector in the hands of information on... such things."

"Has he not taken his vows?" Jessamine snapped, her brows narrowing. "The man was converted by the damned high Overseer himself." She scoffed harshly under her breath.

She leaned a little back on her chair and both shared a loud sigh. "I know what your intentions were with your choice for him... but with circumstances raising..."

"I am not discharging him." Jessamine declared her voice stubborn and heavy.

"No one is going to question it-"

"And of Serkonos?" She asked, her hand reaching across the desk to snatch another recent letter. She slid the paper at him with a quirked brow. "Lord Rossini sent his favor and regard days ago. He's beside himself with honor from my faith in his people and our new treaty."

Cromwell shrunk a little, staring down at the parchment with disdain. A weighted pause settled between the two, both looking distractedly at other things with the same downtrodden expression. Cromwell fidgeted, trying to come up with some sort of solution and failing time and again.

Jessamine shook her head, turning back to the petition. "You know I cannot undo his actions." She clarified. She wouldn't. They both knew that. To do so would mean admittance to Corvo doing something she did not support. It was weak, and shameful. "You need to speak to the Commander."

"Majesty, the Commander won-"

"I positioned you and Commander Dalen to advise Corvo as you would me." She said, her eyes piercing him to his seat. "So I expect you to do so instead of trying to advise me afterward."

"Yes, Empress."

She dismissed him with a nod and a pointed look toward the door, ignoring Cromwell's expired and resigned expression. It wasn't very fair to pin the burden on the man, but she needed him and Dalen to do the job she could not. Her hands could only stretch over so many issues with her government and her people before they snapped.

When he was gone from her office and she was once again alone, she let her head drop. Her tired neck ached and the continuous strain of each day was not helping. Her fingers pushed gently at it as she stared down at the petition.

Her trust in Corvo had not wavered.

She knew even as she stared down at the parchment that if these…men were dishonorable enough to petition their Empire for a simple discharge then they were not honorable enough to guard her or the Tower. No doubt they were not weak without them. She remembered Corvo's notes, his meticulous attention to the utmost perfect security details and knew that such a drastic decision had not been made with the same amount of care.

Their own meetings in the past two months had also been comforting. He was always blunt with her. Perhaps, it was because he couldn't waste time on meaningless chatter between his fingers. She enjoyed his visits, the clarity and the concern he had for his duty. His reports were never timid, but they were never full of ego or pretentiousness. He did his job unlike any other that had ever reported to her.

But Cromwell was right.

She wasn't sure how much longer his informalities would outweigh his dedication.

But her troubles with Corvo were not the worst of her issues at the moment.

Hiram Burrow's bill to ensue action against the improvised was making leaps with Parliament. It had made its first pass with enough supporters and if she didn't arrange something to stop it dead in its tracks she would be losing a lot of support, not to mention control on the situation. Burrows wanted to cease her regulations and funding for the shelters and houses in the poorer districts of Gristol.

There had been rumors he would suggest evicting those below a standard to the more rural areas of their isle to 'encourage real labor.'

It was nothing short of infuriating. And she was finding less and less supporters amidst situations with Corvo.

And now there was another entirely separate issue.

She eyed the stacks of paper on her desk, Corvo's petition, Burrow's letters of recommended dates for his Bill to be instated, and a large stack of documents staring back at her ominously.

It was the start of a new season for those held within Coldridge Prison. Which meant a new round of plea's from those on the bench for probation from their crimes.

Normally the pleas were made to her judges, but they weren't being very productive lately and the letters of appeals had been passed straight to her. It was a childish stab from her judicial system in order to add more work to her day to announce their displeasure at her new Protector.

But there was one in particular amidst those crying for mercy from the Empress that stood out among the rest.

One of the damned had achieved enough support and votes from many of her members of Parliament and Council to warrant an audience with her.

There wasn't anything she could do about it. To deny him would be to deny those who vouched for his name and to disgrace the system of justice her Prison worked on.

Gallus Canavan had been tried for conspiracy against the Crown just before her father had taken up the mantle. He had been responsible for leaking important strategic information to connections in Morley and had outwardly supported the Insurrection before being caught. He had reportedly killed four Gristol men upon his arrest and slandered the Lord Regent with threats.

Canavan was an old name within Gristol. It was a Morley family that much Jessamine knew. And it was also very, very wealthy. Enough to gain support from hardened Gristol men. It was obvious why he was being considered for pardon by her lesser men. As the sole inheritor of his currently abandoned legacy, he would fund the officials responsible for freeing him well.

So now, she would have to hold an audience and hear Canavan's testimony before deciding to grant his probation or not.

She didn't like the smell of it. Something was wrong. She couldn't decide if this was a simple matter of greed, or a display of power and rebellion against her recent decisions.

Jessamine stood from her large desk, not bothering another glance at the strewn documents on her desk. Her hand flittered to her lamp, winding the metal down to distinguish it.

With this many issues running rampant in her mind, it would be best to try and fight her way to sleep early.

* * *

"I see her Majesty is late... as always." His brother's voice drawled.

Morgan Pendleton sneered, glancing down the grand dining hall adorned in teal and gold. Trivial colors, really. Strange that such a soft blue represented such a strong Empire. "Are we surprised?" He asked, turning to his brother and holding his sneer.

"Well, it is a dinner in our honor." Custis commented, his narrow face lifting in his distaste.

They were standing side by side at the end of the long dining table; near their reserved seats at the head of the table nearest the Regent. The room was filled to the brim with others. Noble men from noble houses flittered between each other with incessant chatter. Judges and advisors and Parliament representatives all mingling like vermin along the gilded furniture and fine decor.

Technically, it was an honorary dinner for the new members of Parliament, which only happened to include them. But, they were of one of the oldest houses amongst the newcomers and by far the only one the others were interested in talking about. Hence their honorary seat at the top of the table... and their begrudging and conceited behavior for the evening.

Lord Pendleton, their father, was dying.

The old fool had seemed to have taunted time with his stubbornness. He had always been working, as far as they both could remember, spending more time recognizing the figures and clauses in bills than the faces of his sons. And now the world seemed to call him early as he had fallen ill and was being forced to retire from the benches of her Majesty's Parliament.

Naturally, that duty would now have to fall to them.

"If this is what we will have to deal with..."

"...tardiness." Morgan finished for his brother. "Then we should let the seats be left unfilled." They shared a look, subtle in its mirth that the two recognized easily on faces that were their own before settling back into their displeasured silence.

They hadn't spoken to anyone yet. A few had given their congratulations and condolences, but the two were not being very open to the other members. Not yet. Not until the others proved ideal to begin speaking to. After all, they controlled a very large portion of votes within the seats they represented.

But it was also because they were so young. Some of the youngest ever inducted into parliament in fact. Something neither minded subtly reminding those introduced to them. Nor did they feel guilty about it even with their father lying ill in his bed. It only served him right over the years.

It was a sweet and well deserved justice in Morgan's eyes. They would be much better at the job, and actually take incentive in its privileges rather than waste them by sitting in their father's dark office.

They seemed to be thinking the same thing, as they both smiled at the same time, their pale and smooth skin pulling wrinkles in their cheeks.

Custis turned toward his brother to release another shared sentiment when the large doors opened and the entire room turned to attention. He scoffed beneath his breath, "Only the Secretary. And look... a dog."

Morgan turned to peer through the other bodies in the room to look upon Secretary Cromwell, who looked as distressed as ever. But another shadowed his side and Morgan chuckled at his brother's joke when he realized its target. "The new Protector."

"He is as dirty as they say?" Custis suggested.

Morgan nodded, the two of bumping shoulders as they smiled leeringly at each other.

"It's still not surprising. She is the Empress of the Impoverished."

They snickered again, watching the two men enter the fray. "He looks positively barbaric." Morgan said, both leaning in toward each other to whisper and jeer. They watched the Serkonan make his way toward them, heading for the chairs closest to her Majesty's. He didn't look at the two of them as he passed, but his dark eyes didn't look at the floor either.

The room seemed to be as tense at the Serk's broad shoulders, all following his foreign and unwelcome figure with scrutiny.

"I didn't think one would be able to tell so easily that he's addled." Custis smirked with amusement. "Perhaps the thoughts in his head are just too small to speak and that's why he's a damnable mute."

The Empress was announced soon after, with everyone standing at respected attention near their seats as she marched to her own. She was the silencer between them, even if they shared exasperated and understanding looks in the corner of their eyes.

Her Majesty was dressed in greys, with a white caplet and pearls about her neck. She took her seat easily and without acknowledging the other mass amount of occupants. They followed suit, seating themselves after she did and waited for the supper to be officially announced.

It wasn't the first time they had ever encountered their Empress. Nor would it be the first time they were introduced to her. But it would be the first time she would have to adorn them with the time and attention she had to on all those who represented her government.

It went well enough; they sat together side by side, with only the Secretary between their seats and Her Majesty's, and a few other elder advisors across from them.

"Look how the dog stands." His brother whispered at one point.

Morgan drew his eyes toward where he instinctively knew where Custis was gazing and watched as the Lord Protector took no seat, instead drawing himself back against the dining walls and paintings with the other Royal Guard, as if he were only a lone watchman patrolling the dining room.

"Is he so daft he doesn't know to sit at such an event?"

"Daft or absolutely pretentious."

They whispered beneath their breaths constantly through the dinner, motioning toward the lowly nature of the others around them.

"Majesty, may I introduce Custis and Morgan Pendleton." The Secretary suddenly announced, leaning back to motion to the twins, who sat straight at the acknowledgement.

The eyed each other before directing their gazes to the Empress of the Isles, who sat back in her chair staring at them with regal consideration. "Pendleton?" She questioned, brow rising slightly. "How goes your father?" She asked them kindly.

Morgan resisted the urge to roll his eyes dramatically at the boring and predicting question. Custis answered. "Ill, Your Majesty."

When he didn't elaborate or thank her for her concern, she frowned. Cromwell cleared his throat lowly at their side before burying his expression in his wine glass. Custis seemed to raise his chin in pride at his shrewd and clipped behavior. Morgan fizzled with the same delight.

It was a game the often played. Pushing and prodding. They had done it since they were children, supported by each other they could be unstoppable to others. They had found over the years that one could never gain the courage to two united and since their introduction to society they had used it to gain favor, influence and intimidate.

Morgan could feel his fingertips numbing at the idea that Custis had begun prodding at the Empress herself.

"Your father served Parliament honorably. I am thankful to his service and representation; I hope he has a swift recovery." She stated, nodding at them gently. It was a kindness that her pointed expression used to remind them that they had to be respectful of her in conversation.

Morgan couldn't help but hate the statement. If their father ever recovered then they would lose their new privileges and social standing as the men of the Pendleton house, so the sentiment wasn't shared or appreciated. And they could both spot the very subtle use of her words to put them in their place. The twins exchanged this feeling with a glance before Morgan looked back at her. "Thank you, Majesty..."

She nodded, and they recuperated quietly within their meals.

Morgan's arm brushed with Custis' quietly, the fabric of their suits as identical as the shared look on their faces and the rallied mulishness in their gut.

While Morgan could never admit to being anything but the mirror of his brother, and Custis his; he couldn't help but know in his heart that his brother had always been the more fearless of the two of them. If only by the smallest of hairs they shared.

It was he who spoke, his voice piercing through the clinking of cutlery and grabbing the pale eyes of their Regent.

"Your Majesty may I inquire about your legacy?"

Jessamine Kaldwin looked a bit taken back and confused. "My legacy? You mean my ancestry?" She suggested lightly.

Custis and Morgan parallel the quirked corner of their mouth. "Oh yes—forgive me, I had forgotten that at your proud age your legacy has still yet to be… conceived of."

The room went silent.

The Secretary beside them went rigid, his eyes widening and his glass shoving itself harshly on his mouth mid-drink, wondering if the young Pendleton had remarked on the Empress' sexual absence and lack of an heir all in one sentence.

Jessamine's parted lips stiffened with the raise of her brow, her own shoulders as stiff as the air between the large crowd of men seated down her table.

Morgan could feel his brother's fingers brush his at their shared victory and he opened his mouth to add to the blatant injury.

But he didn't get the chance.

His brother's neck snapped backward so fast his entire chair toppled to the ground behind him. The wood smacked the lacquered floors with a bang, mirroring the bang of Morgan's knees against the underside of the table at he shot up to grab Custis instinctually. "Brother!?"

The Lord Protector's large hand yanked his brother's lanky body right off his seat from the ground, twisting him like a string-less puppet to his feet.

"Corv—Lord Protector!" Cromwell shouted, watching at the Serknonan appeared from nowhere and locked Custis in his arms.

"U-Uhand me!" Custis sprawled, his hands flailing wildly in the air ad his leather shoes squealed on the floor. "UNHAND ME!"

"Custis!" Morgan shouted, staring at the horrifying scene happening right there in front of everyone, in this sickening silence with all eyes on his brother's unseemly wailing. His eyes flickered about the stoic and hard-faced Serkonan before whipping to the Empress, "Your Majesty!?" He begged, his own legs faltering and stumbling as he pushed his chair out.

Jessamine Kaldwin's eyes were large in glinting in their utter shock at the scene, watching at the noble first son of the Pendleton house was manhandled away from her table. At Morgan's shout she turned her eyes on him, and the entirety of the representatives staring straight at her.

Her mind raced and her subconscious shouted at her to call Corvo off—but she didn't. Instead her sharp chin rose, and her pale eyes hardened to steel as she stared back evenly at Morgan.

Custis Pendleton continued to shout, now with threats of dishonor by his family and from his father. Morgan stuttered wildly, following quickly as Corvo Attano silently twisted the young man's neck beneath his fingers to steer him backward to the exit. The guard quickly opened the large doors for their Royal Protector, watching with their own wild expressions.

Corvo tossed the young noble to his feet, snapping his hand quickly at the guards posted outside, assumedly to evict the man from the premises. They did so immediately, hoisting him up by his arms and dragging him away from the dining hall.

"Please wait – Custis! Brother!" Morgan shouted looking lost and crazed as if he was also being ripped away by his arms. The cacophony ended suddenly as the large doors shut resolutely after them. Mute roars of their opposition could be heard beyond them and the entire table was deafened to listen to them.

Cromwell turned his unabashedly dismayed expression on his Empress, as if to ask her what exactly had happened despite having just witnessed it.

She was looking quietly at her meal with regal composure. Saying nothing as Corvo crossed the room to stand once again by the head of the table.

Jessamine said nothing, swallowing a bit of wine as casually as she was able, before looking at the silenced room and turning to the other advisors at her side.

"The wine is always trained to the way I like it." She commented, her stern and restrained expression smiling politely.

The rest of the dinner continued without further insult against either the Empress or her Serkonan dog.

* * *

_Note: Whew! Sorry this was so late! Hope I made up for it by bringing in the ever so nice, Pendleton twins. Also, I couldn't have done it this week without Chilton's remix of Drunken Whaler (youtube,com/watch?v=veWj1JZBl-A)_

_Inspired by: "According to Wallace, on one occasion Custis made an "improper remark" to The Empress and Corvo "ejected him from a state dinner before even asking who he was."" - Dishonored Wikipedia_


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter 16  
**

**Penance**

_My actions against my land, my home, and my empire were committed a long time ago;  
A time in which my loyalties remained with my ancestors, who would push a young boy to trade secrets for their pride.  
I was young, foolish, and eager to please those who fed me and raised me. _

_The blood of the soldiers I killed still haunts me. I murdered them out of panic when I realized my consequences had dawned on me. And my relatives were too far away in Morley to care for my sacrifices. _

_But I am old now; old, imprisoned and wiser from the loneliness of my cell walls. _

_I ask only for the fair beacon of hope that is my dear Empress to hear me and my plea._

_I want to be pardoned for my young mistakes, and only she could be so gentle as to grant them._

_Gallus Canavan _

Jessamine skimmed her eyes over the name, also reading the list of Parliament and Council members' seals stamped along the bottom of the Coldridge marked paper.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair with a dis-satisfied glare. 'Fair beacon of gentle hope' indeed. She wondered if the man thought she would delicately forgive him like some martyr because she was a woman in the crown.

The words seemed genuine. Her fingers curled on the paper, and folded it in thought, pressing the crease hard before tossing the thing to her desk. Any words were genuine from one who really wanted something, regardless if they were true or not.

Jessamine shook her head quietly to herself, leaving her desk determinedly. She would not debate any longer on the issue. There was nothing to be done now, the audience for Canavan had already been arranged for the following day and there would be no stopping it with the amount of supporters he had for his plea.

She would have to determine his fate after his audience tomorrow, from the throne and before her court.

For now, she had other things to attend to.

She left the dimness of her office, escaping into the daylight of the brightly lit hallway of her quarters. After a quick interrogation of the guards posted there and a direct dismissal of any escorts, she headed to the west staircase. The Tower was mostly quiet in the bright afternoon, aside from the bustling servants ever cleaning and ever preparing. They gave their curtsies and bows as she passed, and Jessamine continually had to hold a declining hand up to all the eager guards seeing her without escort.

As she ascended the western stairs with barely a light clicking of her shoes, she came upon another set of guards posted at the entrance to her grand library. Her appearance had obviously surprised them and their casual conversation was cut off with a tight salute.

"I have been told that the Lord Protector is inside?" She questioned, not bothering to wait as she headed for the doors.

One of them hurried to open them for her. "Yes Majesty, shall we ta-"

"No thank you, keep your post."

The library reminded her of her office, with most of its heavy drapery covering the high windows and blocking out the careless brightness of the sun. A few that had been left open spotted bright light along the standing shelves, striking the teal carpets like hot sun on the ocean. The silence bore no life that she could see aside from the dust wafting in the stagnant air and for a brief moment, the Empress allowed herself to breath in relief. It was not often she found herself so alone and so released from a current duty.

She walked down the main egress slowly, glancing to each side of her path along the large towering shelves as if to spot the silent Serkonan she searched for. She frowned as she reached the end to no avail and glanced curiously toward the upper landing that held her conference table. But a shifting of movement drew her eyes back down to the shelves beneath the landing and the tables at the far end of the dark reading room.

Passing through to the alcove, Jessamine made out the hunched form of her Lord Protector at a corner table. He sat quietly, with a few books and papers spread messily in front of him, engrossed in the dark of the corner. Her brows lifted with small concern and puzzlement.

She had meant to come and speak with him about his misconducts, but now, before his humble silhouette and his quiet nature she found herself hesitating.

The Pendleton's had sent a very angry letter demanding a public apology. She had been surprised at their outright ignorance. Under no circumstances did one ask an Empress for her apology. Even if she completely disagreed with her Lord Protector's overreaction and treatment of her new Parliament representatives, she could not voice it. And she still had more dignity and noble standing than the Pendletons.

They were young fools. But while they could be easily ignored, Corvo's actions couldn't be. The night of she had let it pass, but had resolved to reprimand him on the behavior she expected from him. Especially since this wasn't the first scandal he had caused in his first two months of the title.

But two days after the dinner incident with the twins, something amazing happened.

Her nobles stopped disagreeing with her.

The council meeting the day before had been quick and efficient. No one dared to vote against her. Documents that had been missing out of spite had suddenly showed up. There were no interruptions while she spoke. And while the entire time they all could not seem to reach her gaze, her government officials all made sure to be on their very best behavior.

Ruling by fear didn't sit well with Jessamine, but she'd be lying if she said she was not relieved in the sudden change in attitude and she was smart enough to know that the change was because of Corvo's showmanship. And since she had stayed strongly and outwardly supportive of him, her court no doubt thought she had hardened.

It was an uneasy situation for her… But perhaps this is what her government needed right now. A strong leader to force them to behave like a mother would her child. A mother knows best what good for their children. And they were indeed all acting like toddlers.

But she was worried about how long this quiet fear would last before they grew spiteful.

Corvo didn't seem to notice her as she watched him, contemplating what exactly it was she wanted to say to him while he contemplated the turning pages.

When she began toward him again, her mind was as steady as her gaze.

Jessamine made to clear her throat as she closed in on the table, but the clack of her shoes must have given her away, because Corvo's face snapped up toward her suddenly, his entire body jolting up in his seat.

His hands jerked to his sides, but stiffened as his eyes grew in recognition. The chair's legs squealed as he stood hastily, hands straightening his unbuttoned uniform.

"Lord Protector." She announced, watching him look around in confusion or anxiety, she couldn't tell which. His hair was once again loose, untied and framing his face. His shadowed beard was coming in again too. Since he had been inaugurated she had noticed him trying to keep up his groomed look, though he must have been too busy now to manage it.

'_Majesty_.'

His fingers signed easily, and his jaw straightened for orders.

She tried to smile at him as she kept moving forward, coming to stand at the chair across from his and placing her hands on its back. "Forgive me, I did not mean to disturb your peace."

'_Never.' _He paused then, his analytical gaze glancing about them once more_. 'You are not with an escort.'_

She pointedly ignored that observation. Her eyes scanned the surface and the books laying open on it. She had never pegged her Serkonan Lord Protector as a reader... but the shame of that came to her quickly. Of course he would, when speaking was denied to him.

"May I ask what it is you are reading?"

His hands smoothed out the wool of his coat as he looked down at the open pages himself. He seemed to think on it, before looking back at her. He signed a word that she didn't understand, but before she could shake her head in confusion he caught on and began letter-spelling it for her.

'_Memoirs.'_

She frowned at the answer, not exactly what she had expected. Knowing what little she knew of Corvo, she had suspected something more like war tactics or security detail, maybe the original blueprints of her Tower. Memoirs seemed a little too romantic for someone who seemed to only think on his current duty. But then again... she couldn't really claim she knew Corvo on a personal level.

"Of whom?" She asked, moving to round the table toward his side, to better look at the journals lying open there.

The Serkonan quickly moved from the spot, pulling his chair out for her so she could sit herself. He signed as she neared: fingers moving and wrists crossing.

'_Lord Protectors.'_

Now, that sounded more like him.

She sat carefully, craning her neck to read the labeling of the pages. "Sir Bolton Tethers," Her brows furrowed at the name elegantly written near the bottom of an entry. It was a familiar name that her mind raced to put together as she continued to scan the words on the page. It clicked and she glanced at the Serkonan's face above her. "He was the first Protector, killed after his Lord Regent was assassinated."

Corvo said nothing, and she continued to think out loud as she turned back a few pages. "During the Insurrection there were numerous attempts on the Regents life. Commander Tethers became the first Protector to fight against such attacks but they were both murdered in the end."

Corvo's hands flicked beside her and she turned to watch his words.  
_  
__'He was with the Regent at every hour.'_

Jessamine shook her head with knowing. "Not in the last one." She murmured, her fingers tracing the sketchy handwriting.

After a contemplative pause between them there in the study, she stood and Corvo allowed her more space between him and the desk. Her face transfixed itself back into the resolute authority of an Empress and her words were at specific as her mind picked them.

"I have been meaning to come and speak to you on recent events, Lord Protector."

Corvo's brows twitched, his expression concerned if reserved. Jessamine hesitated once more.

"Perhaps that is the wrong way to start…" She said, quieter now as she thought of his actions with the twins. "Rather… I should thank you for what you did the other night. You upheld my dignity, even if a bit overzealously." She tried to smile to him to express her gratitude, but found a stirring of embarrassment welling in her stomach at the thought of bringing up the offense. "Insults are not something an Empress can risk acknowledging. Usually, I uphold a strict policy of ignorance to such things… but, I am… extremely grateful to you for acting upon chivalry."

His eye softened as he confronted her hesitating gaze, lips tensing in thought on the disrespectful event. His hands rotated at his wrists as he thought of his words, and when they came they were slow.

_'Words can have the same meaning as a dagger. I will seek to protect you from both.'_

The answer reminded her that Corvo's words were never ones to take for granted, as silent and rare as they were.

"Thank you." Jessamine said with an easier face and a quiet encouragement in the confidence of her Protector. "Admittedly, I have been having some… reservations about some of the actions you've taken in your new position."

Corvo seemed to strand straighter at this, his eyes glancing at her face as if to guess what exactly she had been doubtful of.

"Gristol moves more slowly than Serkonos. I have no doubt you've noticed… so actions taken swiftly here are held in a more critical light than they would be there." She explained, avoiding his furrowed gaze. It seemed harder to berate him than she had imagined, especially when his decisions had been effective and beneficial regardless of the spite they caused. "I must be mindful of every decision I make in order to please both my people and the houses that represent them. And since you are a decision of mine, I must be mindful of the choices you make as well."

Corvo's eyes creased and the shake of his head was subtle.  
_  
__'Gristol moves just as fast as Serkonos, they are just better at hiding it.'_

Jessamine frowned at him and the comparison to the more brutish continent, but she couldn't quite argue with him.

'_The only difference is that words are used to kill instead of Hands.' _

"I will only ask you to be more… considerate of the delicate hiding that they do then, at least in the coming season." She amended, and gave him a look of finality. "I'm sad to say they are not used to foreigners changing the rules they love so much."

Corvo nodded, his hand grasped on his chest as a small salute to her request. She was thankful of his seemingly easy understanding of the issue and hoped that he would indeed reign in his behavior.

"It will at least be a relief to Secretary Cromwell." She chuckled beneath her breath.

_'Nothing will relieve that man.' _The signs were sharp and quick, and Corvo's eyes behind them just as gleeful.

She tried to restrain her mirth at Cromwell's expense even as she added, "He titters often, doesn't he?"

'_Like a tiny bird.' _

She wasn't sure if it was the actual joke, or the motion of Corvo imitating a beak on his deadpanned face that made her laugh so loudly. Her hands tried to physically grasp her mouth to stop the sound, catching Corvo's gaze as he seemed to laugh along with her with a puff of air from his lips.

They shared that warm stillness for a few moments.

He took a step toward her eventually. There was an uneasiness in the way her moved that told her he had something to ask and she let him stew for a bit, glancing at the books on the table before finally saving him.

"Was there something you wanted to ask of me Lord Protector?"

There was a moment of strange shifts on his expression before he finally spoke.

'_I am…concerned with your security.' _

Jessamine frowned, but waited patiently for him to continue. She was torn between watching the restless expression on his face and trying to read his fingers as they moved, hearing the slightly unsure voice deeply rolling in her mind's ears.

'_I have done all that I can for the safety of the Tower._' His speech was slow as he spelled some things. _'I have seen to position the best men, and new posts for better results. I am now confident in the reinforcement of your guards and forces. But I am concerned in the lack of guards on your Majesty.' _

"On me?"

He nodded, his hand flicking a yes as his face became more determined.

'_I would like to resume the duties of the first Lord Protector.' _

It took a few moments before Jessamine realized what exactly Corvo was pursuing. She glanced quickly at Tether's memoirs of paranoid guarding and overbearing conduct. Corvo meant to act as such. A constant escort.

"That isn't necessary." She immediately denied. "You must understand that our dear Commander here was instated during a time of open war."

'_I am not nearly as present as he was. And he failed__.__' _

"That is quite different. Morley assassins crawled the city streets for the Regent's life every day. There are no such dangers in my reign, Corvo."

The former Gallows man disagreed with only one hand.

'_There were nineteen men after your life in Serkonos.' _

Jessamine scoffed, turning away from the mute. "That was an exception to the record of the Kaldwin family." She declared, vehemently denying that ruffians and thugs counted for political warfare. "Times are different now. There's no need for such strict measures. It will only unease my people."

She directed her gaze back on him, giving him the weight of a Regent's stare. "They will wonder why their Empress fears for her life so much that she clings to the presence of her Lord Protector."

Corvo's rough face deepened the intensity of his concern, but he didn't argue. The warm mirth from before had transformed into something heavier. She was a bit beside herself, having someone challenge her so fully. Staring right at her and not releasing into a bow. It was slightly infuriating. And also slightly refreshing and new.

She waited for the quiet signing of his fingers, but when they didn't come she spoke first. "Should any threats arise you are, of course, responsible for taking the expected measure to ensure my safety." Corvo looked a bit more relieved to hear that, so she was quick to end with, "But until then, I will require no such services."

His hands rose, fingers clenching in his fist before crossing his palm.

_'And tomorrow?'_

She had nearly forgotten. Her brows drew together at the thought of Gallus Canavan's audience with her and the Privy Council.

She didn't trust any criminal sentenced for treason against her government, but she couldn't believe that such an event would be dangerous. The man was to be escorted from Coldridge Prison to her Tower by the warden and his own men. There would be no harm in assigning her own Royal guard, though she expected they would already be required to arm the hearing chamber.

But Corvo wasn't asking about the security detail. He was asking if he would be stationed there himself.

"As Lord Protector, you are intended to be at my side."

'_I would prefer to secure the criminal myself.'_

"He's a prisoner of over fifteen years Corvo, not a newly captured threat."

He looked as frustrated as she felt and suddenly she realized that she had elected a Royal Protector as stubborn as she was. And with his foreign background, he did not seem to care that he was protesting royal authority.

It was in remembrance of her gratitude to his previous actions and the reason why she had come to visit him that she decided to compromise with him. "Assign your best man for added measures on Canavan." She paused, considering his stern expression before adding softly, "But I would feel the most comfortable with your attention at my right hand."

It was a bit manipulative, and she felt bad for the trick of her tone and gentle prodding. But the Serkonon nodded, mute hands signing his hail of her as he bowed.

Her breath came easier at the action. After the dinner with Parliament having gone so awry and the Council so intolerably disrespectful, having Corvo's constant and unwavering dependability refresh her mind was liberating.

The doubts she had suffered at the beginning of the month regarding his behavior seemed to dissipate. He was still the choice she would select over and over given the chance. Despite the grudging murmurs in the nobility, Corvo was becoming an asset she would never have realized she needed.

Jessamine allowed herself one last genuine smile before leaving him to the memoirs, making a mental note to review them herself to be sure that the old Commander's weren't giving her Lord Protector too many ideas.

* * *

Court never suited Jessamine well.

Considering that the last time she had addressed the people of high society had been at Corvo Attano's induction to Lord Protector, she couldn't say that she fared court well either.

However, after the incident with the Pendletons, the gossip and whispered rebelling against her crown was thankfully missing.

The judges on the other hand, seemed to be brewing beneath this audience with Gallus Canavan.

It made her uneasy.

Anytime there was an obvious opportunity for her Privy Council politicians to make personal profit by uniting under support of some bill or movement was always enough to make her worry. And there had been many, many endorsements and royal seals on Canavan's plea.

It didn't take long for her to figure out why. Canavan's house was as wealthy and old as it was empty and waiting. He had been in prison a long time, but before he had been put away he had been at the height of society during the age of her prosperous father. He had been young and without a family to claim his properties and she could only imagine that her officials thought themselves smart by supporting his want for probation. It would mean favors returned and a new benefactor to call on.

But that didn't negate that Canavan had been a traitor to the crown. He had killed Gristol blood and sold out their first naval fleet to an awaiting ambush. Many had died, and the Morley Insurrection had roared afterward, with Canavan's allies cheering his name across the water.

His written statement to her office had sounded genuine enough. And her advisers had been optimistic even as her councilmen had stamped their approval. Quietly, she wished she had conferred the dilemma with Corvo yesterday. If any man knew the honesty of former murderer, it would be him.

Should she deny his proposal, he would be executed on the morrow.

Jessamine's Father would have had him beheaded before a crowd. She could picture his stern voice in her mind, commanding it as if he stood before her. He would proclaim the man unfit for any apologies from the Empire. Morley was responsible for its own treachery, and examples would be made of those who thought themselves so high. The show would have rallied pride from the citizens of Gristol and Morley would have wallowed in their place, still dealing with their economic depression.

But that was in the time of her Father, of course. Morley was stronger now. And one could argue that their spirits had only hardened in their struggle. To infuriate them by executing one of their own in a parade might just be invitation for the sort of attention Corvo had worried about.

To grant him pardon would put some control in her government as opposed to her own though. Something she was uneasy about after the past months of grueling backlash on her surprising choice of a foreigner for a Royal position. She had only just seen the light in her dilemmas with her own council and she didn't like the idea of giving them more power. Hiram Burrows included.

It would be decided on the man's speech itself then. It should be anyway, that was real justice; to determine a man's life on his honor and his word.

The grand chamber was predictably full. Nobles gathered like rats to watch an outsider judged by their Empress, and the observing crowd made Jessamine nervous with trepidation.

Corvo's face was the only comfort she found. Tense and distracted though it was, his brown eyes blackened and flickered constantly across the halls. He struck a much more intimidating figure beside the teal and gold of her throne, dark navy clad and tall, than Nicolai Essen ever had. But while the other's regarded him as a leashed hound at her side, he was nothing but silhouette of security to her.

She was instantly aware of the measures he had taken, realizing that she could spy as many uniforms in her crowd as she could the expensive wear of her noble ladies' dresses.

The Herald announced her as she sat with her chin high and her back straight.

The crowd bowed below her gaze and she felt her Lord Protector sign words by her side.

She watched Secretary Cromwell catch those words, his ever bird-like and nervous features amplifying under a stressful order. Just as she realized that her high officers must have finally learned signing, the Herald shouted the entrance of the warden and Gallus Canavan.

The enormous chamber doors opened, breaking out the golden light of a dying sun and the black shadows of her guards entering with a heavy march that silenced the courtroom.

The solid gold of the armrests beneath her long fingers were cold. She forced herself to watch as men filed in with rigid formation. Two at the front, four at the back, and another shackled between.

The soldiers were brisk, but the shackled man was slow.

As he neared, Jessamine felt her fingers curl on the cold metal, pale eyes piercing what she perceived as it was presented before her.

They put Canavan to his knees on the bottom of the Kaldwin seal that was painted on her tiles, an expanse wide enough that she had to squint to recognize what expression the man was making.

He was much older and much smaller than what she had expecting. Reading the reports of the man had made her only imagine him as he was when he had been apprehended. Young, raging, full of hate and war: she had imagined a man like those whom she had seen running after her in Serkonos. Ones like those Corvo had killed.

But this man was… lacking in that fire. His eyes were on his knees and his hands shackled before him. His hair was grayed and sparse and he was clad in the rough brown rags of Coldridge. He looked like a smack of dirty stone, left bare in the glittering expanse of her Tower.

"Presenting captive of the Empire of Isles, prisoner 536, Gallus Canavan. Wanted for high treason to the crown, facilitating the assault of the 1st Fleet of Dunwall, murder of five Gristol Royal Guard, and conspiracy to assassinate the Lord Regent."

Corvo shifted beside her while Jessamine refused to look away from the hunched man's from. The Herald continued his announcement of the occasion. Canavan was here to plead his remorse and seek penance. They all knew that.

"Her Majesty, Empress Jessamine Kaldwin the First to reside on this sentence."

She raised her hand to dismiss the Herald and the quiet murmur of her court quieted beneath her fingers as well.

She flicked her gaze on the scene, and recognized Commander Dalen as the one behind the convict, his large frame towering over the older man with diligence.

"Commander, please bring Mr. Canavan forward so I may hear his last request." She ordered.

Dalen and the others did not wait for the man to stand, hoisting him instead by each shoulder to bring him forward. His knees dragged on the polished marble, chains at his feet skittering loudly.

A deft hand signed quickly as her side, and she glanced at it fast enough to hear Corvo's voice snap in her mind's ear.

'_No closer.' _

"Gallus Canavan, you have been brought before me to state your penance and ask for mercy. I await your reasons as to why."

Pale eyes snapped up to meet hers, and she felt the cold of the metal beneath her fingers shoot through the rest of her form. The man looked straight at her, not away or distantly, as any others were expected to do for someone as high in office as her.

Not unlike Corvo's hardened stares.

But Canavan's eyes were almost a milky white. There were clouds fogging out the darkness that was surely in his irises before his years of confinement.

After a long moment, he spoke.

"Your. Majesty."

The voice was akin to the rattle of the chains that shook from his hands as they began to reach toward her with emphasis. But it wasn't quiet. It was loud, loud enough for all the court to hear. His hands shook slightly, though from the weight of his manacles or his age she was unsure.

"I am only here to tell you of my deep regret."

His words were sluggish and the rasp of his voice scrapped along her spine. She reinforced her focus, narrowing her brow to follow along without intimidation.

"I have lived fifteen years in four walls." His grey eyes looked up to the ceiling, rolling into his skill to meet his pale skin that disappeared into his grey hair. "Four walls do nothing for a man's thoughts." His hands grabbed at his rough tunic. "Lonely, lonely thoughts."

Her lips pursed, the slowness of his words stirring in her an impatience that was wrought with anxiety.

"A man can think forever for that long, forever until his thoughts go round and round until he realizes he's only thinking of one thing… over and over."

There was a wonder to his voice, and Jessamine began to doubt the man's coherency. Perhaps he had been so old and confined that his senses had begun to fade. The plea letters he had sent could have been drafted. It wasn't inconceivable.

She contemplated dismissing the whole thing at the idea, when suddenly Canavan's voice grew louder, startling her back to his words.

"Over and over! I have been sitting in that cell thinking of that day. Of what I did, of what I didn't do, of what I want—"

His chain smacked against the marble as he shot upward on his knees in a sudden frenzy of movement, scattering the two guards at his sides. She watched as Commander Dalen's hand shot forward to restrain him and suddenly there was a thundering bang echoing in the chamber.

It would be a lie to say everything slowed.

The sight of Canavan's hands twisting in his chains and producing a silver revolver was a fast one. It happened in a glimpse. The foggy eyes saw nothing but her and she nothing but them.

The shot of the gun seemed to announce the end of her hearing, just as it signaled a sudden darkness in her vision. Blackness swept over her, like a veil had been draped about her head.

She thought she heard yelling even though she could really only focus on the muted thrumming of her heart beneath the steady cry of her muted ears.

Jessamine felt calm in those split seconds, until the darkness moved, shifted, and she realized that her veil was Corvo, her Lord Protector.

The bang of the gunshot pierced Corvo's ribs as he dove before the Empress. His eyes showed no pain in his new adrenaline nor did it show any hesitation in his sharp reaction. Tanned fingers flipped a blade from out of his belt, arching the light metal in his grip before sending it flying through the air. The screams of the nobles in the courtroom and the scramble of the guards didn't slow the flight of his knife as it lodged itself into Gallus Canavan's throat.

The glinting handle mirrored the shine that covered Canavan's eyes, staring up at the ceiling blankly.

Jessamine felt herself move, felt her lips call out her Lord Protector, even as his stern face turned back to her. His hands were heavy and forceful around her shoulders, yanking her from the throne harshly even as he took her beneath his arm gently.

She could see the entire room and the crowed screaming and rushing about like sheep chased by wolves, but she couldn't hear them.

She could only hear Corvo, mute, as his fingers signed in front of her face.

'_Go! Go to the stairs! Go!'_

Her breath came in slow, tedious lengths. She seemed to turn in a daze, seeing the mass of blood and grey flesh that was Gallus Canavan on the white and teal of her Tower floor. Her eyes locked on the sight, staring at it even as she felt Corvo's hands lift her from the ground and ascend with her up the grand stairs of the chamber, away from the quiet cacophony of the shrieking nobles.

Away from the white milky eyes that stared at her from below.

* * *

_Note: Sorry for the very long wait again! I graduated from college last weekend! Hoorah! Updates should be steady once more, and I tried to make amends with a very very long chapter._

_I promise all of you waiting for the romance that you won't have to wait any longer._

_Also, I'm sort of in a search for an editor for this story. I'm rubbish at catching any of my misspellings and misuses of words. If any of you are interested or know someone who is, let me know!_


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter 17**

**Reform**

The death of Gallus Canavan erupted through the citizens of Dunwall like an ember igniting a wildfire.

It was mere hours before the entire city knew of the event and a mere day before all of Gristol knew. Now it would be only seconds until every inch of the Empire was informed of the Regent's near death.

But the erupting blazes of reactions were not sorrowful or horror-filled.

They were rapturous.

The Kaldwin Flag was adorned on every window, pulled high down the street to marching men and cheering women. 'Long Live the Empress' was heralded through the city like a battle cry and the family's legacy song was blown from all the instruments the common folk could afford.

The beautiful and just Empress had survived. 'Strong and unyielding,' they cried. 'Battling Morley rats!' others would agree. She had lived; she who represented them more than the nobles that tried to kill her; She who loved her people and they her.

The night of the incident the streets were in full celebration, and the roar of the taverns continued into the early hours of the morning.

Every glass, however, was raised to Corvo Attano.

The Royal Protector was a hero. He was the sweeping force of Gristol, saving their beloved Queen and murdering traitorous bastards like an example executioner before the entire court.

The story of Corvo Attano's swift hand throwing a knife into the Morley man's head was retold until it was ten knives and twenty men.

The people forgot that he was from Serkonos. They forget his foreign skin and his addled tongue. 'Long live the Empress! Thank the Protector!'

His name was cheered through the streets even as it was whispered with crippling fear within noble houses.

Jessamine tried to ignore the loud smacking of the fifteen sets of boots accompanying her.

She kept her eyes on the large iron doors exiting Coldridge Prison, as her hands tried to occupy themselves with replacing her gloves.

But the sound was loud, and the talking of orders was louder.

Her accompaniment of fifteen Royal Guards was upsetting her more than the thought of the necessity of them. It made her doubtful of herself and her safety. Almost as if the added measures to security were making the danger she could possibly be in more real. She knew if she didn't get back to her Tower quickly, she might scream along with the prisoners in the building, wailing as they were in their cells.

The large doors opened as a few soldiers ran to do the job. The golden dying sun on the water's horizon pierced her eyes as she stepped outside; trying to focus her gaze on even more guards lining up to the monstrous iron-clad carriage before her.

She felt sick looking at the whale oil operated machine, but considering the day before… riding her horse had been out of the question.

As she stepped down the stairs leading toward the car, hands shot out at her quickly. Her guards all eager to please and aid her to her seat, their leather gloves reaching at her like a nightmare she had never had.

She balked, her hands trying to rise in dismissal. "No, please—No-" she began, eyes flickering wildly across the faces of her immense entourage. "Wh-Where's Corvo?" She asked loudly, her breath tight in her throat as she fretted about to find the Royal Protector she had thought had been ahead of them.

"Behind you, Ma'am." Someone answered.

She whipped around desperately at the direction, and met with the instant relief of the steady and deep gaze of dark eyes.

His tall, encompassing form was a few inches from her, rolling out a presence of control that made her tightly wound muscles relax and her breath exhale easily. Corvo strode to her slowly, nodding silently as his hand weighed down on her shoulder, leading her to the car. His free hand made a quick motion about him, and the Royal guard dispersed from them to take their posts about the carriage.

But it was her hand that grabbed at his to begin assisting her into the car, and her hand that didn't relinquish his as she settled into her seat. Jessamine didn't have to say anything to let him know she wanted him inside with her.

And Corvo did not have to reply to simply enter and slide the heavy metal door closed. He wasted no time in banging a fist on the ceiling, indicating that they were ready to go. The car jerked harshly before it began to move.

While the monstrosity was loud, screeching and dreadful, it was at least plush on the inside. She settled in the seats a bit easier, thankful to be out of the horror that was Coldridge prison and away from her overbearing guard.

She wanted to yell at Corvo to fire them all in her anxiety, but she knew she couldn't.

Not after yesterday.

Her eyes moved to the small window beside her, staring at Wrenhaven River forlornly.

She had never imagined such a thing would happen in her reign.

Gristol was in a tough time of decline, true. Her people were in poor spirit and her government was sour, but an attempt on her…?

Her hands gripped at her cheeks and eyes, closing them to the view and her incessant thoughts. It was the same questions over and over. And none had been answered since the gun had been shot the day before.

They were leaving the damned prison in the same state they had entered: confused, angry and suspicious. The Warden had proved useless. He had been scathing and adamant about his un-involvement. Gallus Canavan had been kept in solitary confinement since his arrest and no recorded visits had been made beside the state lawyer to take his written plea. All endorsements made from her court officials were done so through papers. No one had contacted the prisoner directly.

The poor man had nearly began crying before her, swearing up and down that he had no idea Canavan had conspired to murder her. And he and his guard had made no notice of any gun during his transport.

Jessamine believed him, but he was fired anyway.

Rather, Corvo had fired him and she had not objected.

Perhaps what was worse than the suspicious nature of the setup to assassinate her, was that the audience with her was only made possible by the many, many representatives and nobles beneath her endorsing Canavan's plea; a list of names that included everyone from wealthy second cousins to her very own Royal Spymaster. The implications of it all were staggering.

The iron car jostled harshly on a catch of tracks and Jessamine stiffened, turning away from the silent and darkening skies of the window. Her glance came across her Protector, in time to catch the man press his hand against his ribs as subtly as he could. Her brows furrowed at the motion, looking him over intently.

Corvo hadn't slept since the day before. She knew, because she hadn't either.

After carrying her from the gruesome incident on the marble tiles of her grand hall, her Royal Protector had secluded her in her quarters.

They had been in each other's presence since.

She remembered breaking from the daze and shock of seeing the bloody Kaldwin Seal and Canavan's grey, bleeding body to a bleeding Corvo, darkening his navy uniform to a harsh black. He had paced the room to check the perimeters, sword drawn and face as hard as its steel, blood running onto his hand and dripping red on her carpets.

She had sat watching him with horror and shock as soldiers poured in after them. Corvo had signed constantly the hours afterward, commanding and ordering. She had briefly remembered Commander Dalen coming in to report that they had moved the body and detained several people on Corvo's command.

A lot of men had been fired.

Her private bedroom had become the center of the aftermath of the incident and she had felt like a child, seated carefully and protectively away from the danger.

He had stayed by her side, even when she broke her silence to insist that he have his injury looked at.

The physician had been sent to her quarters instead and she had watched Corvo allow the doctor to tend to him while he had tended to her protection.

His vigilance had been extreme, but Jessamine could not attest to thinking it too overreacted. Her shock had faded slowly and Corvo's presence had soothed her frayed nerves.

They hadn't spoken of the incident. Not really. Not even as she stayed up through the night with him feet away from her at all times and men coming in and out of the quarters constantly with nothing but dead ends in their findings.

Cromwell had even flitted in early that morning. He had fretted at the break of dawn, announcing the increasingly hectic state of her people outside the Tower and the stirring court nobles awaiting a public address. He had informed her Hiram Burrows had immediately devised an investigation of his own- one that they had yet to hear about since.

Jessamine's eyes clung to the spot where Corvo had been shot, his uniform still a dark patch of dried blood. The gold lining on his coat was a strange orange rust of a color, matching the faded stains on his hands.

It was hard to look at him and not think of the sight of him diving before her.

"Corvo."

Her voice was like a drop of water in the river, weak and ineffectual. But the Serkonan still looked up at her with a direct gaze and every ounce of attention he had.

It was with fear and trepidation that she realized she had become far more dependent on this man in the past twenty-four hours than she had ever anticipated.

She hesitated, eyes dropping to stare at his knees, offsetting hers and only a few centimeters away.

She remembered, somewhere distantly in her mind, the short conversation she had with him the day before Canavan's audience. She remembered Bolton Tethers' memoirs and Corvo's quiet request.

Jessamine looked back up at him, a welling of shame and regret she hadn't felt as an Empress in a very long time. She should have heeded him, should have listened.

Her chin rose and her defenses too. Swallowing thickly, her hand motioned to him quietly.

"You should see to the doctor again about your ribs."

Corvo watched her quietly, not nodding or moving. His dark eyes looked as high strung as she felt and she tried to force some authority in her voice to take control once more. Something she hadn't done since Gallus Canavan pulled the gun out on both of them.

"Don't think I didn't hear him say you fractured one." She warned. Her voice was still weak, but she tried to dismiss him with her eyes instead. "E-Enough is enough. When we get back to the Tower you should relieve yourself from duty to tend to your health."

Corvo looked away indifferently, his left hand rising to curl his fingers to his palm and sweep the air.

'_I'm fine.'_

She glared at the motion, leaning in to him and smacking his signing hand away with her own. The action grabbed his full attention again, a peculiar expression of confusion and surprise crossing his features.

"That was not a suggestion. I won't have you grasping at yourself in my presence." She tried, making her tone dip into something like snobbish displeasure to persuade him of her seriousness. "It's not fit for my Royal Protector to be limping—"

'_I'm fine.'_ He motioned again.

"I won't hear it." She dismissed, looking pointedly away from his fingers toward the window. "I won't hear it. You will not neglect yourself for duties sworn to… sworn to me."

She couldn't rid herself of the vision of him diving before her- or the gunshot in her ears. She couldn't stop thinking of those damned memoirs and his blasted and admirable actions in the past twenty hours. Nor could she forget the arms carrying her up the stairs, the quick orders he signed to her officers and the constant caution he took at her every step.

He was the most deserving of a better Empress than she had been to him. "After everything you've done, you should be tended to. After—"

A heat engulfed her hands, causing her to jump.

Corvo leaned closely into her, his signing hand snatching her left. She stiffened, eyes watching as his fingers curled on the back of her wrist, pulling her hand into the air. She said nothing, watching as his digits curled over hers, bending her joints down beneath his.

Baffled and speechless, she glanced at his face. His eyes were steady on their hands though. His lips were tight and his jaw clenched as he focused on the action.

The heat of his hand was immense. Hot enough to make her forget temporarily that Gallus Canavan no doubt had someone to endorse his vicious actions, or that her court had most likely conspired to her death, or that she was fighting an invisible battle for her life and country. She forgot about the white foggy eyes of Gallus staring at her even in death. She forgot the crimson drips of blood still dried into her bedroom carpets.

His fingers manipulated each of hers easily, bending them into a specific position mirrored beneath his own. Finally his eyes flickered away to meet hers, and she held that gaze as he swiped their joined hands at the air.

'_I'm fine.'_ They motioned together.

Jessamine's throat tightened. Her eyes were hot as she watched the unquestionable reassurance in his own, shaded softly by his untidy hair.

His free hand rose beside him, motioning casually with a flick at his ear and a few letters.

'_Do you hear me now?'_

She felt her mouth loosen, felt her eyes squeeze the heat on the rim of her lashes as a smile flickered across her face like a shadow.

She nodded.

Corvo mirrored the action, nodding and letting his fingers slip down the back of her hand and arm before returning silently to his lap.

The rest of the ride back to the Tower was quiet. Corvo did not mention how he had been right, and she did not speak of how she had been wrong. She did not persist in worries about his health and instead devoted her silence to inwardly build back up the strong spine of a Regent. She breathed slower and racked her mind with thoughts of what was expected of her by her people. She would need to address them and her court. Jessamine could not appear weak in front of her Parliament, regardless of how many representatives within it wished her dead.

The Isles were more than just her life. She had to be strong for those who would suffer should she be shoved to a corner in fear or in death.

And at least, should anything happen again, Corvo would now always be close enough to stop it.

She was sure of that.

At that thought her hands clasped quietly together, savoring the fading heat from her skin.

* * *

_Note: I know you all want to murder me for being so late! I can throw up excuses about headed to Expo and SDCC and playing the DLCs but I'll spare you. Instead I'll say that this chapter was actually much longer- but I decided to cut it short and give myself a jump start for getting my updates back on track and much faster!_

_Thanks to EVERYONE who submitted messages, reviews and pms about being my editor! I was surprised so many were willing to help, and I thank you. Really, the amount of love this story gets baffles and humbles me to my core. Anyway, thanks to Cori (Amai-chan), my new editor! She'll be helping make the story not so error filled and terrifyingly misspelled._


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